


Doomed Never to Find

by sleepyMoritz (Catherss), Tillthewheelsfalloff



Series: Bleed like a Stone [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Asgard, Backstory, Bisexual Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Bisexual Loki (Marvel), Bonding, Gen, Gender Roles, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Loki's Children - Freeform, Magic, Odin's A+ Parenting, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Queer Themes, References to Norse Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-02-11 21:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 68,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12944850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherss/pseuds/sleepyMoritz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tillthewheelsfalloff/pseuds/Tillthewheelsfalloff
Summary: “You’re not handling Odin’s death very well, are you?”“Odin as I knew him died long ago. I know my place now.”Romanov regarded Loki with a gentle tilt of her head. “No, you don’t.”





	1. Spring into Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Ignores Infinity War because fuck it. We begin a few months after what's left of Asgard lands on Earth. Title from New Slang - The Shins.
> 
> Cowritten with Tillthewheelsfallsoff; she can also be found on ff.net as tilthewheelsfalloff. Her tumblr is mcshepcree. 
> 
> You won't get my ff.net, but my tumblr is sleepymoritz, so come say hi! 
> 
> A glossary can be found at the end. We're aiming to update once weekly, and there will be three chapters.

Loki strode through Nyrlif, his head held high and his hand wrapped around a small dagger that was concealed by his bracer.

As he passed through the centre, the heads of the newly-settled Asgardian people turned to stare and whisper. He carried on until he found himself ten strides away from a large but plain wood cabin that had _Huginngard_ carved into it. The door, which was decorated with gold paint that twisted and knotted into the shape of a ravin, swung open with a bang that made birds take flight, cawing indignantly.

“Brother!”

“Thor,” said Loki.

“Heimdall warned of your return.”

“So it seems he was correct.”

Thor didn’t know quite what to do with himself for a moment, but then rushed forward to embrace Loki. “Thank the fates,” he whispered into Loki’s ear. “Thank the Norns; I thought you a dead man, Loki. I thought you wouldn’t return.”

“Well, I’m here now.” Loki said, pushing Thor away gently. He looked well; strong as ever, but strange without the presence of the Mjolnir. His hair was longer, tucked behind his ears, but it still lay awkwardly without it’s normal length. Loki took some pleasure in knowing how embarrassed Thor would be, bereft of his oft-complemented mane.

“Wherever did you go? Why didn’t you say you planned to leave?”

Loki was just about to open his mouth to lie, when he heard a _thunk!_ behind him. It was the Iron Man, his glowing hand making a high-pitched whining noise.

“Long time, no see, Loki. We wondered where you’d got up to.”

Loki smiled. “I merely traveled Midgard for some time. But I’m here now.”

The Iron Man snorted. “Yeah, you’re not just waltzing back in here.”

“Who are you to say where I may go?”

“I’m Tony _fucking_ St--”

“What’s happening?!” Yelled Korg from inside a tent. He struggled inside trying to untie the entrance, his large body poking the material into odd shapes. Loki, Thor and Stark watched on, no-one particularly sure or inclined to help him. He eventually burst out, and yelped. “Ah, shit, it’s Loki! Where’s Iron Man?”

“I’m literally right here! Jesus, do you need your eyes tested?

“No,” Korg said defensively.

Loki sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. Others had stepped behind Stark; Natasha Romanov and a strange humanoid being that emitted a powerful energy that Loki could feel from some paces away.

Thor wrapped a heavy arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Let us go inside. We have much to discuss!”

“Hey, hey, hang on! He can’t just walk back in here and right into the throne cabin!”

“We decided not to call it that, Stark,” Thor said crossly. “And whyever not? He’s my brother!”

“He killed humans! He’s unsettled! Unbalanced!”

“My friends! Really, does he look unbalanced?”

All eyes were on him, now. He couldn’t help that he looked tired and gaunt, but he had put braids in his hair and kept his lightweight armor in good condition. He smiled, attempting to look meek.

“He looks like a heroin addict,” Stark replied.

Loki doubted Thor knew what heroin was, but he still crossed his arms defensively. “Do not speak ill of him. This place is as his as it is mine or Brunnhilde’s or Heimdall’s, and that is that. If you have a problem, you may leave my ward.”

Stark did not like that at all. He was silent for a few moments, then said, “whatever. But I’m not babysitting.”

So Loki was ushered inside, still under the wing of Thor. The cabin was modestly sized, but larger than most in Nyrlif. At the centre was an ornate wooden throne, setted with colourful stones likely found on the shore of the nearby Lake Semerwater. It sat on a plinth of roughly cut stone.

Either side were archways cut into the logs and there was another at the back. Assuming Thor had laid the building out similarly to the throne room of Asgard, the left would be the council room, the right the royal armoury, but the far doorway did not exist on Asgard. Loki assumed this would be Thor’s bedchambers.

Thor lead him through to the left, which was labelled _Muningard_ , and - yes, Loki was right - a long table was the feature of it. Thor sat him down opposite to him as Heimdall and the other mortals filed in.

“What has happened to the rest of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes?” Loki asked with a small sneer. Just a little one. For prosperity.

Stark removed his helmet and stood at the head of the table. “This is us, now.”

“Oh dear,” Loki said innocently.

“Shut up, brother. Play nice. This is Natash—“

“The spy, I remember,” Loki interrupted.

“Ah, you do! Well, Banner, who you know. And this is Vision, who is an artificial intelligence.”

“Hi.” The strange thing lifted it’s hand in greeting. Loki felt a wave of magic dissipating through the air, which twisted oddly in his gut. He knew that magic from somewhere.

“Where did you find this?” He asked, pointing to Vision.

“I made him,” Stark said.

Loki glanced between them. “You… made him.”

“Accidentally.” Vision sent Stark a side glance but didn’t comment.

“Yes, that would explain it,” Loki smirked.

Stark sighed. “Thor, could you please make your brother shut up?”

“Shut up, brother."

Loki put his hands up and made a sewing motion over his mouth.

“Okay, Edward Scissorhands, here’s the deal,” Stark put both fists on the table menacingly. “Your sceptre has caused a lotta issues for us.”

“The sceptre wasn’t mine.”

“I thought Thor told you to shut up. Thor, didn’t you just tell him to shut up? Shut up, Loki. It’s caused issues. And not to mention that you, as a person, sitting here, also caused issues.”

“I see,” Loki said.

“So that’s why you can’t just come back.”

“Stark!” boomed Thor. “This is _my_ ward! You cannot give orders!”

“And whose _land_ is this? Huh?”

“Both of you, please,” Romanov sighed. “Be civil. He’s here now - where on Earth could we send him?”

“He’s not Asgardian. He doesn’t have a asylum here,” Stark argued.

Thor stood up, enraged. “He may not be Aesir, but he is still my brother! Stark, what is your grudge against him? You only met for mere moments!”

“He killed people, Thor!”

“We’ve all killed people,” said Banner quietly from the corner. Every head turned to look at him. “We’re not exactly saints.”

Stark groaned. “I hate it when you’re right, Brucie. You can’t give a man a break, can you?”

Stark pressed a button on his suit and it began to peel away, sliding and compacting into a platform that he stood off. Without it, he looked far less imposing in a silk shirt and tight chinos. He sat at the head of the table and leant backwards on his chair.

“Thor, can you actually say he won’t go all crazy on us?”

“Yes.”

“How can you guarantee that?” Romanov asked.

Thor looked between Romanov and Stark and lastly, Loki. Loki just waited, his face blank, sharp eyes meeting Thor’s.

“Brother?” He asked.

“Yes?”

“Are you not sworn to protect the King of Asgard?”

Loki swallowed and nodded his head. “I am.” Thor made a facial expression and hand gesture that summarised to _see?_

Romanov interrupted, pointing at Loki. “That’s not a reason. Lots of people are sworn to protect things they betray. Why should we trust his word?”

“I am right here, you know.”

“Fine, then,” she turned to face him, uncrossing her arms, tilting forward slightly. Loki recognised the tactic; lean in, open body language, maintain eye contact, inspire truth and honesty. “Loki, why should we trust your word?"

Loki mirrored her, but intertwined his fingers in front of him. “You shouldn’t.” He slid his gaze over to his oaf of a brother. “To be frank, Thor, distrusting me was the smartest thing your head has ever been able to conjure up. But I know, Thor, that you are struggling.”

“How could you know that?” demanded Thor, wide-eyed.

“Because you never _listened,_ ever, and that was your downfall. You never attended history lessons, logistics, all that makes a good ruler outside of the blood and pace of war. But _I_ have.” He looked around the table. “I am one of the most powerful sorcerers in all the Nine Realms, second to none I have ever faced. I can create matter, destroy it, trick the eye and mind, heal flesh from scorched bones. You would rather I was on your side than against you.”

Stark sat up, suddenly interested. “You can heal bones?” Loki inclined his head. “Could you heal paralysis?”

“And who do you have in mind?”

“A friend.”

“Loki--” Thor tried to interrupt, but Loki held up a hand to silence him. This, he knew, was his bargaining chip to win over Stark. Ha! He didn’t even need to figure it out himself; Stark had just blurted it out all of his own volition.

“Bring them to me and I will prove this to you.”

“No. You’re not just gonna walk in here and put your greasy hands all over my friend’s sexy body. Nuh-uh. Not happening.”

“I will wash my hands beforehand.”

“Not the point.”

“Why request this of me and then refuse when I agree? It’s nonsensical.”

“You’re not just coming in here, and expecting us to actually trust you, are you?”

Loki felt a sharp flare of anger. “As I have said, I don’t expect trust, but I do expect a sense of propriety.”

“Propriety? What is this, Pirates of the Caribbean? Look, you’re a fugitive, a murderer but moreso, a liar and who even knows what you want? Like, why are you here? Why didn’t you stay on that party planet? Hell, I’d stay on the party planet. Who wouldn’t? But you decide to come back here and offer to _help_. And what, we’re supposed to all, ‘yeah, guys, it’s fine, the homicidal megalomaniac has decided to join the scooby gang!’?”

Loki glanced to his brother. “Thor?” He said hopefully.

Thor shrugged. “He is kind of right. You’re my brother, always, but I feel your motives have been lost long ago. As I said, our paths diverged.”

“You won’t defend me against these mortals?”

Thor bristled with anger. “Tread lightly, Loki. These mortals are my friends.”

“Am I not your _brother_ , Crowned Prince of Asgard, or do you only call me that when it is convenient?”

“Br-- Loki!” Thor cried. “Do not twist my words so! I only want what is best for Nyrlif and the Avengers and _you_.”

Loki laughed coldly. Norns, this was bad, but he couldn’t get himself to just shut up. Thor made his anger rise like no other; being questioned by these mites of mortals was worse. He felt like he was almost on the edge of hysteria. “If you wanted what was best, you would have been a leader, not a vain, impractical, inefficacious _boy_ of a king!”

Thor stood up, practically vibrating with anger. “Know your place.”

“Is my place not to whisper advice in your ear?” he asked coldly. “Like how Odin always wanted?”

“I am offering you a place in my Kingdom, Loki. Keep your anger bound if you know what’s good for you.”

Loki laughed and sneered. “Some Kingdom, oh mighty _Thor_. Two hundred strong and mortals who flitter in and out like _flies_ around the corpse of Asgard. Your soldiers are lost in other Realms, your Jane Foster refusing to even speak to you, and you can’t even keep a schedule for buildings.” Loki felt the anger coil as he delivered his killing blow. “You’ll never compare to Odin Allfather, Thor. You’ll only ever be in his _shadow_.”

There was a crushing silence after that. Loki’s breathing was as heavy as Thor’s, and the mortals were looking wide-eyed between the two of them.

“Get out.” Thor said harshly.

“Fine. I will be--” He realised he didn’t know the layout of the new Asgardian settlement. “I will be around,” he finished with a snarl, before storming out of the cabin and into Nyrlif.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki heard footsteps behind him. It was Brunnhilde, a green glass skull full of liquid in her hand, sauntering over the rocky shore of Lake Semerwater.

“Greetings,” Loki said.

“Hiya,” She replied. “So, the wayward son returns.”

“As have you.”

Brunnhilde plonked herself down next to him, swaying with drunkenness. Loki and her had formed a half tentative, half abrasive camaraderie on the ship from Asgard to Midgard. They didn’t strictly speaking trust each other as absolutely as Loki had his old shield brothers, but they drunk, sparred, and joked. “Oh, I only left to get away from Thor. Duty this, stop drinking that. Tiring. By the way, have you heard of absinthe?”

She held up the glass bottle and undid the screw top. “I’ve never known drink so strong,” she said gleefully, taking a swig. “Want some?”

Loki took the bottle and sipped. It burned wickedly; he spluttered and she took it off him before he could spill any.

“Careful! This is from Pilsen!”

“Bless you,” he said, sniffing. “Is _that_ what you left for? Alcohol?”

“So?” She said defensively. “What’d you leave for?”

He looked up at her, then out over the lake pensively. “To save my hide.”

She snorted and shook her head. “Ah, how they fall from grace. You’re hardly in with the Grandmaster on Midgard, are you?”

“Unfortunately not. I killed some of their people and they still haven’t gotten over it,” he said. “Midagdians. So _sentimental_.”

“It went well, then? Meeting the… What are they called? The Defenders?”

“It started well. I even offered to heal one of their own. But I think Thor does not wish me to.”

“Why not?” She took another swig.

“We are not in a battle,” Loki said, putting on a deep, booming voice. “Brother, you should not use your magic outside of battle. It is embarrassing.”

“That’s stupid,” she informed him.

“Yes, well, he never was one for reasoned thought.”

“He does strike me as a bit old fashioned. I’m surprised he likes me.”

“Thor likes women,” he said ruefully, smiling to her, “regardless of their position. Me, however… I find myself on thin ice.”

“He did mention his love and respect for women,” she said. “Perhaps that is our only thing in common.”

Loki turned to look at her. She wasn’t quite smirking, but there was a sharp glint in her eye. “I was told you had a male lover, back on Asgard, some time ago.”

“Who told you that?”

“Grandmaster.”

“Yes, I did.” She looked across to him slyly. “And I think you are not one to talk.”

Loki froze, expecting some kind of snide insult or thinly-veiled disgust, but none came. “My, you _are_ perceptive. I wonder how, given your drinking?”

“I’m drunk, not blind. You turn up, all slimline armor and little smiles, and not a week later the Grandmaster invites you into his court? Ha.”

He shrugged. “One must do what it takes to survive.”

“Do what it takes indeed,” she said, a small smile before she took another drink. She handed it back to him wordlessly. He took it, and tried not to cough this time.

They sat there, in silence, passing the poison back and forth, looking out over the lake.

 

* * *

 

 

Brunnhilde wasn’t gone for long when Loki heard the heavy footsteps falling behind him. He would know Thor’s footsteps at the end of the world. 

“I am not in the mood for more insults, brother.” Loki told him without looking away from the view. He was glad Stark chose this little plot in Ohio. Though it had few similarities to Asgard, asides from mountainous forests, it was still beautiful. Or, rather, as beautiful as Midgard could get. Hate the Realm Eternal though he did, it’s beauty could not be surpassed.

“Good. Nor am I.”

Loki looked up at him. “Your mortal friends are infuriating.”

“You are infuriating,” Thor responded pettily. So he _was_ still angry at Loki, then, but not much more than usual. Thor had a near unerring ability to forgive Loki and laugh about everything mere hours later - making Thor finally turning on _him_ all the more surprising.

“I am, but I was expecting some level of courtesy. I _did_ help you defeat Hela.”

“You also attempted to betray me… three times in one week. Let’s not even begin on the times in the past few years.”

Loki suddenly wished Brunnhilde hadn’t taken the disgusting drink with her. “I have returned to help.”

Thor finally sat down beside him, resting his arms over his knees and keeping a smooth pebble in his palm. “Why did you go? It made you look guilty.”

“I didn’t particularly want to be shot on sight,” he said dryly. “I figured I would explore Midgard and give you time to turn their favour in my absence. I obviously should have been gone longer.”

“My friends have been through a lot since I left. Tony, he has been betrayed by one he trusted most,” Thor explained, and then sighed. “The atmosphere has changed - this is not the Midgard I landed on all those years ago. They have all lost much and do not want to risk more. To them, you are too big of a risk.”

Thor threw the rock into the glassy calm lake.

“So much they will not allow me to heal? Attempt to fix one of these losses?”  Loki felt the electric change in the air and a roll of thunder sounded in the distance.

“You must see where they are coming from.” Thor side glanced at Loki. “That little display of anger will not fare well in their opinion of you.”

“They didn’t want me to help before that,” Loki said. “My magic is a tool, and I will use it. Even if you don’t want me to.”

“You should not use your magic so freely. I do not wish to be embarrassed in front of my friends.”

“They do not see the problem. And nor do I. Your distinction between magic in battle and magic outside of it is thin, Thor. You cannot have it both ways.”

“It is unbecoming of a Prince,” Thor said lowly.

“You sound like father.”

“One of us has to.”

“No, actually. You should be your own leader, not another Odin. Odin made many mistakes, and I was one. He should have told me about my heritage sooner, or raised us differently. He should have told us about Hela. He should have protected mother. There is so much he should have done.”

Thor was silent for a few beats, and Loki could practically feel the cogs turning. “I want to be good King, I do not want to make mistakes. But do not know how to do that,” he admitted quietly.

Loki turned to face Thor; he was staring out into the water, looking lost. He reminded Loki of his childhood self, for a moment - drowned in the face of oncoming responsibilities so large it was nigh on unthinkable. Thor only had some 200 to look after now, but the Nine Realms would not wait long.

“Allow me to help you. That, _brother_ , is why I returned.”

Thor turned to Loki, a small smile crossing his features. Slowly, he said, “I will speak to the Avengers. You must be able to agree on something.”

“I will be as accommodating as possible,” Loki promised.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki walked through the town again, just as the sun was setting. This time, he took more care to look at each face as he passed. The streets - if they could be called that; they were, in reality, more like slowly forming mud paths - were lined with bored, idle people.

He turned a corner onto a side-street that was at a right angle to the main one; which led onto Thor’s cabin. It was lined with large tents and in-construction wood cabins, where a few men struggled with the next log while others milled around. He paused at the sight of one of them. He knew that face.

The men stopped working when they saw him, but weren’t really sure how to react. One bowed, and his friend next to him gave him a glance.

“Naftali?” Loki called out.

Naftali stood up straight from where he had been slouching on a post. “Your highness,” he said unsurely.

“I’m glad to see you made it,” Loki said. “I was looking for someone make me some new clothes.”

Naftali shrugged. “I would, your highness, ‘cept I don’t have any of my old kit. I haven’t known anyone go hunting, either,” he said.

“Really? No one’s gone hunting?”

“All we have is swords from Hela’s attack. Can’t kill a deer with a sword. Your Highness.” He added.

Loki hummed. “I see. Are there no bowers? Fletchers?”

“I don’t know.”

“So, what is your role here?”

“We’re building, sir.”

Loki looked at the men struggling with the log. One of them dropped it onto their foot and howled, hopping around in pain. “And when the buildings are finished? The needed works are done?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. Can you not speak to your bro-- Thor-King about this?”

“Yes, but I’m asking you.”

Naftali just shrugged again. “We don’t really have any plans that I know of. Thor just leaves us to our own devices, more or less.”

“Right,” he said. “Do any of you know if a cartographer survived?”

“Cartographer? What for?”

“Cartographers make maps.”

“Yes, I-- I know that, I was asking why you needed a map.”

“Is there one of the area?”

“Well, no. I don’t think.”

“Then _that’s_ why I need a map,” Loki drawled.

One of the other men spoke up. “I know of one. Mórekr.”

Loki smiled at the man, trying to hide his increasing irritation. “And where’s he to be found?”

As it turned out, Mórekr was to be found at the community hall, south east of Thor’s lodgings. And he was to be found drunk off his arse, laughing raucously at his own joke.

Loki rolled his eyes and grabbed the man by the lapels, throwing him into the back wall. Icy silence descended on the previously jovial atmosphere of the hall.

“You are Mórekr?”

The man was trembling. “Y-- Yes, your-- your highness.”

“The cartographer.”

“Y-- Yes.”

“And have you made a map of the area?”

“No, your highness,” he snivelled.

“And what good,” Loki breathed into his ear, “is a map maker who doesn’t make maps?”

He swallowed. “I don’t know, your highness.”

Loki dropped the man onto his feet, but he stumbled and slid down the wall. Loki bent down to look at him in the eyes. “Make me a map,” he snarled. “Two _akrlengd_ squared, from the centre of the settlement. Then another, which includes all of Lake Semerwater in the centre, and five _akrlengd_ all directions. Yes?”

“Loki,” said a calm voice from the doorway. “Stop terrorising the citizens.”

Loki turned slowly and saw Vision. “I wouldn’t have to if they weren’t so damn lazy.” He narrowed his eyes are the strange being. The thing set him on edge. “Stark _created_ you, correct?”

Vision inclined his head and took a few steps inside. He looked deceptively docile with his high collar and fleece, but Loki was hit again with that same wave of magic. “He did.”

Loki approached slowly. That magic was one he knew - it was familiar, like a smell long forgotten from childhood, or the ghost of a loved one lost in someone else’s words. “How?” he asked.

“Stark misconstrued the truth before. It wasn’t so much an accident as a shot in the dark. I was made from J.A.R.V.I.S., crafted to protect life.”

“Yes,” Loki whispered, feeling drawn to the being. “But _how_?”

They were but a wingspan away, now. The magic that rolled off him was intoxicating - he didn’t know how the other Aesir couldn’t feel it. Could _stand_ it, being so strong and whispering so gently; _come closer, little one, and I’ll lead you to power beyond what you know._

“Loki,” Vision warned, frowning. But Loki was already holding his hand out, reaching towards the gem at the centre of his forehead. He knew it, and it was _his._

Then his stomach dropped as he realised. Oh, Gods, no, not this, not this, _not this--_

He stumbled backwards, away from the call of the stone, sickness flooding him. From _his_ call. “No. It can’t be.” The words fell from his mouth as he retreated, struggling to keep upright. The gem nestled in the being’s forehead was that of Thanos’ sceptre.

Vision stayed put, watching with curious eyes, “I will not harm you.”

Loki was caught between a grimace and a snarl. “How can you know that? Are you some agent of Thanos? I will not go back to the Mad Titan, I will _not_.

“No one is sending you to Thanos,” Vision said calmly.

Loki carried on, his head light. “That stone-- it is not controllable, it is more than your wildest _dreams_ , to be blessed--” He struggled with the words, feeling them tumble out without thought or design. “Blessed,” he stuttered.

“Those are not your words,” observed Vision.

The room was suffocating and the ghost of that magic was playing with his mind. He couldn’t—

“Get out of my way,” cried Loki, looking up through wayward strands of hair.

Vision stood for a moment and Loki reached for his magic. Before he could use it, Vision gave him a curt nod and drifted to the side, allowing Loki to flee from the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Thor led Loki into the room opposite to his as the long day finally, _finally_ , came to a close. 

“It’s yours.”

“Mine.” Loki smiled, chuckling softly. “You built me a room even though you didn’t know I’d be here to stay in it.”

Thor shrugged. “I had a good feeling.” He turned to face Loki. “Where did you go for so many weeks, truly?”

Loki licked his lips. “Midgard,” he lied. “I explored. You know me. Restless. I know I said I was here, and I am sorry for leaving, but...”

Thor cut him off before Loki got overly sentimental. Thor, it seemed, was not in the mood either. "Aye. You did like to leave when we were adolescents.”

He smiled, thankful. “No different. A whole new realm - I’d never given it the time it deserved. I always thought there was more interesting elsewhere, but the societies on Midgard… There are so many. So complex.”

Thor nodded. “Well, ‘tis good to have you back. And if you will leave again…” Thor looked at him with large eyes. “Please, at least tell me where you are going.”

“You have my word, oh, mighty King.”

Thor shoved him, laughing. “Piss off.”

“You’ve been spending too much time amongst the Midgardians, brother.”

“Ah, they aren’t so bad,” Thor admitted. “Certainly not the worst to share a world with.”

Loki hummed and approached his bed. Thor took the hint and waved his hand. “I will speak to you in the morning.”

“Yes. Good night, brother.”

Thor then bid his leave, Loki sat down on his bed, looking around the room. The new settlement had brought up uncomfortable memories he had long tried to push away. Memories of a family, children, his helpmate Sigyn.

He tried to shake away the flash of images that always fell together like a grotesque staccato beat; Váli’s form morphing and twisting into that of a wolf; claws and canines snapping at Sigyn, who lay in a pool of azure blood as Loki was dragged away, screaming, by a pack of Valkyries.

They would have loved it here, in a dense forest surrounded by nature, and only a small settlement of people. It reminded Loki of that home he had all those years ago.

Loki turned to lay down, for the first time noticing the mirror leaning on his table. He saw himself; how tired he looked. With a shout of anguish, Loki felt his magic lash out without his will, needing more of a reaction than this insensate room. _More chaos_. The glass of the mirror shattered as if hit with a mace and fell to the ground in shards.

It still didn’t feel like enough, but it would have to do. For now.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki stood at the head of the table, not daring to sit in what would be Thor’s chair, but wanting to command a presence. Around him sat Thor, Stark, Romanov, Banner, Heimdall, and Vision at the doorway. Loki was thankful for the distance - no one had called Loki to speak about the episode in the hall, so he could only hope Vision was keeping his mouth shut. 

“I apologise for calling this meeting at such short notice,” Loki started with. “But even after only one day here, I couldn’t help but notice… issues. Primarily, that no-one has seen to a schedule of happenings; things being built, houses in particular, but later on, blacksmiths, armouries, tailors, tanners. What will we do when they need more clothes, for example?”

“I’ll supply them with it,” Stark said. “They’ve got all they need - they just need to build stuff. You can’t nanny them into it. Besides, Thor said he had a plan.”

Loki turned to Thor, eyebrow raised. “And what was this plan?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Step one… Build.”

“Good start. Go on.” Thor didn’t; instead, he just stared at his hands on the table. Loki sighed. “They need a schedule. A _plan_.”

“I don’t see why,” said Thor. “As Stark says, they can just build what they need.”

“It is your _duty_ to tell them what they need!” Loki cried. “Thor, are you really so stupid? Nothing is getting done - people are drunk in the streets! Those who build know little of building and where, exactly, is the king in all of this?"

“I was building my own lodgings,” said Thor defensively. Romanov and Banner both sighed into their hands.

“You seem absent to them. You cannot just slink away at a time like this. I know you will still be mourning Odin’s death, but you cannot--”

Thor slammed down his hands, a crackly of electricity skimming over his flesh. “And where were _you_ , if _you_ know so well!?”

“I told you. I was away,” Loki said evenly. “I am not the king, Thor, but you _are_ , and you need to start acting like it.”

“Aaaalright, alright,” said Stark. “Let’s all just calm down a little bit here.”

Banner spoke. “Why didn’t you tell us you were struggling?”

“You all left!” cried Thor, looking desperate. “You all leave to sort your own business, only returning every so often, and it was just easier! The people seemed fine without me - no-one has died, no-one has left!”

 _Oh, Thor,_ thought Loki. _You’ve really dug yourself a hole this time._

“We would’ve helped,” Stark insisted.

“Throwing money around is not helping,” said Loki cooly.

It was Stark’s turn to be affronted. “What else can I do? Give them space, give them food, clothes - what else do they need? A fuckin’ hug?”

“Purpose,” said Romanov, looking at Loki, her sharp eyes glinting as she gleaned his meaning. “They don’t have purpose.”

Loki sighed and gestured to Romanov. “Exactly.”

“How would we do this?” Thor asked, his voice no more than a mere whisper. Thor had never wanted to seek help on his charges, but Loki knew he was finally understanding that he needed it.

“Organise the people. Have you made a census?” Thor’s silence was enough of an answer. Loki rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache coming on. Maybe risking death or captivity and staying would have been easier than fixing the problems now. “Then start with that. Find out who is who. From there you can more onto giving them jobs depending on what they did on Asgard or if they have additional skills. Have the builders build blacksmiths, tanners, for Asgard’s sake, _farms_. We cannot live on Stark’s money forever. We must be self sufficient.”

Tony opened his mouth but Loki sent him a glare.

“The money was helpful to get us started, but that is all. Organise hunting parties - the old court leatherworker mentioned deer when I spoke to him. Fishing boats and nets for the lake.” He glanced around the table, surprised to have everybody’s full attention, with no quarrelling. Romanov even looked-- _approving_. He then added, much more hesitantly, “we could also do with a building of magic.”

Thor looked thunderous at the mere suggestion. “We do not need one. The rest I agree and will work on but you do not need--”

“Are you so blind, Thor?” Loki bit. “I cannot be the only surviving _seiðr_ user _-_ I fail to believe you have built as much as you have with no injuries - so a place of magic, of _healing_ , is wise. I can help, but I cannot do it all, and I cannot do it forever.”

“Healing?” Romanov spoke up before Thor could interject again.

“Yes. On Asgard we had a few places in which anybody with magical abilities would--”

“Any _women_ with magical abilities.” Thor corrected.

Loki rolled his eyes and waved his hand as if to shoo away Thor’s words. “Yes. As I was saying--”

“Women?” Tony repeated, grinning. “Is magic a lady thing on Asgard?”

“It is.” Thor said. “Or men of… shall we say, _argr_ properties.”

“ _Argr?_ ” asked Banner.

“Unmanly,” spat Loki, looking poisonously at Thor, who didn’t seem to see the issue. Just as he was beginning to gain their favour, Thor ruins it with this nonsense.

 _Nonsense that has haunted you_ , whispered the darker recess of his mind.

Tony bent over laughing. “Oh, this is great. Thank you, Thor. Loka? Lokiya? Loklynn?”

“Just Loki, please,” he said through clenched teeth. “Do you not employ women in your company, Stark?”

Stark rose an eyebrow, still smirking. “Of course I do.”

“Your work, has it always been for both men and women?”

Stark’s smirk faded and Loki’s grew. “Uh… engineering and manufacturing used to be a boy’s club, but the ratios having been changing. Almost equal now.”

“And just because it’s always been one way, it does not mean things cannot change.”

“So you see yourself as the Rosa Park of wizards?”

“Sure, why not?” Loki said snidely. He didn’t know who Rosa Park was, but Stark had stopped with that infuriatingly cocky smirk.

“More importantly than Loki’s manhood,” Romanov said, “this magic building can be used to heal? Which means it’s like a hospital?”

“Similar enough, yes,” Thor said. “Less needles.”

“You need a hospital,” said Banner reasonably.

Loki grinned widely at Thor. “At last, someone with some sense.”

For a second, Loki wondered if Thor was going to say something so plebian and mortal as _go fuck yourself,_ but instead, he sighed. “It can be done later. I see no pressing need for it - you can heal without it, I know you can.”

“Yes, but some of the women will want one--”

“So?” Thor asked bluntly. “So what? Some want a tavern or a whorehouse. I cannot indulge in luxuries. Not at this time.”

“A place of magic is not equivalent to a _whorehouse,_ Thor, you egotistical, dim-witted _brute_. It is a place of balance - a place of--” Loki stopped himself sharply. “Fine. Have it your way. I hope you take my suggestions.”

“Brother--” Thor began.

Loki felt the familiar fury begin to boil up in his gut. _Restrain yourself_ , he thought. _Just for now._

He took a deep breath, performed the laziest possible bow and cut him off. “I thank the court for hearing my suggestions, but I will have to excuse myself.”

And if anyone had looked for him only ten minutes later, they would have found him nestled in between the broken shards of his bedroom furniture. Twenty minutes after that, they would have found him sitting calmly on his near-identical bed, picking a splinter out of his thumb.

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, Loki found himself in Muningard, the council room, surrounded by papers, which were the results of the census. They had enough; only one blacksmith and his apprentice, but it would have to do until someone else could pick up the craft. At least they knew, now. 

He didn’t look up as Romanov entered. “You’re not as stealthy as you once were,” he noted.

“Perhaps I wasn’t trying to sneak in.”

“Perhaps,” he said, glancing up at her. “Can I help you?”

“No, just wanted to make sure everyone's favourite god wasn’t up to anything mischievous.”

He gave her a winning smile that he intended for her to see through. “Oh, me? Never.”

She chuckled and took a seat a few places away. After a moment, she said, “why are you helping?”

“Why, isn’t the self-preservation of my own society enough?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think that’s the only thing up your sleeve.”

He started a new sheet of paper, to tally the number of able bodied people. “Indeed. It is where I keep my daggers.” Romanov smirked at that, and as Loki had seen, that was basically a full-on guffaw. He looked up at her properly, this time. She wasn’t wearing her strange tight armour, but what passed for casual on Midgard, her hair tucked behind her ears. “You don’t seem to hold the grudge against me the others do.”

“We’ve all done bad things following orders.”

“What makes you think I was following orders and that you have not let a - how was it Stark put it? Ah, yes. “Homicidal megalomaniac” - into your ranks?”

“You here and the you I met in the cell…” she said, looking him in the eye. It was unnerving that she wasn’t scared of him at all; she regarded him as if they were equals. “You’re not the same person.”

He laughed and deflected. “You presume to know me well.”

“Not well, but I know people.”

“I am not a person like you.”

“No, you’re a monster, aren’t you?” she said boredly.

Loki took a few deep breaths, trying to settle his startling fury. “I am of Jotunheim, yes.”

“No,” Romanov said, “where you are from does not make you a monster.”

“Then what does?”

She leant backwards in her chair, sprawling and dominating. “I don’t know, Loki. I think that’s up to the person, isn’t it?”

“Then why ask?”

“I wanted to know what you’d say.” She smiled blandly at him. “That’s a very interesting answer. Killing Jotuns, Midgardians, abandoning your father to die…To you, that’s not monstrous. But being born of one particular race is?”

“Odin is not my father.”

“Thor is your brother,” she pointed out.

“Must they be mutually exclusive?”

She smiled and it reached her eyes. “Good answer, Loki.”

He was unsettled, but tried to hide it by going about his business with the papers again. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Romanov looked at her nails and then back at Loki. “You’re not handling Odin’s death very well, are you?”

“Odin as I knew him died long ago. I know my place now.”

She regarded him with a gentle tilt of her head. “No, you don’t.”

He put down his pen and smiled blandly, masking the curl of sadness in his chest. “Was there anything else you wanted?”

“No, I think you’ve been quite helpful.” She stood, tucking her chair in under the wooden table. “By the way, the Asgardians talk favourably of you after you helped them. I think if you kept that temper in check, you’d probably win more people over. Not everyone is happy with how Thor has been running the show.”

“You’d be a fool to trust me,” he said darkly.

“Everyone’s a fool to trust. But they - the Avengers, Thor - they don’t see it like that. So for their sake, and yours… Don’t do anything stupid.”

Loki picked up his pen again and carried on with the papers. She shrugged and exited without another word, leaving Loki to feel very, very unsettled about the whole exchange

 

* * *

 

 

When the man named Rhodey turned up in a suit similar to Stark’s, Loki watched him carefully, as he had each of the Avengers. He noticed quickly that he and Stark were very close, almost like brothers. He also noticed Rhodey never removed the suit, at least in Loki’s presence; the furthest he came to removing it was it stripping down into just his legs 

No one seemed to comment on this - not even to tease him. A fresh wound, then, one still grating on the soul.

Loki approached him a few days after he arrived, casually as he could, while Rhodey was assisting with the construction of a new cabin.

“Would you like to walk again?” Loki asked him.

Without missing a beat, Rhodey responded, “I can walk.” He glanced around at Loki. “Thor’s brother, right?” He crossed his arms defensively.

Loki smiled, head tilting demurely. “Remove the suit and walk over to shake my hand. It’s awfully rude to still be in full armour, is it not?” Loki created the appearance that his own armour had just melted into a black suit, and held out his hand. Rhodey regarded him carefully.

“And why would I willingly remove the suit in the presence of a man that could snap me like a twig?”

Loki dropped the offered hand. “Stark does.”

“Yeah, well, Stark’s an overly trusting overcompensating idiot.”

He stared at Rhodey a moment longer, quickly becoming bored. “Would you like healing or not?”

For a moment, Rhodey seemed genuinely taken aback, then he smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talk about. Excuse me.” He stepped around Loki and out the door. Loki watched him go, frowning slightly.

Loki slipped into the shadows in the air as he closed his eyes to create a delicate charm; not of invisibility, but of non noticeability. _I’m not here_ , the air said around him, _I’m nothing to look at at all._ He also cast a muting spell around his person, to cancel out his footsteps and the sounds of his clothes shifting. He followed Rhodey out of the worksite and down onto the main street.

Rhodey stormed into the main hall where Stark was working with Banner, and Loki slipped in quietly before the door closed itself. They both sat up at Rhodey’s entrance. “I thought we were keeping my injuries quiet,” he near-yelled, “since we don’t actually trust the _God of Lies_.”

“We... are?” Stark agreed. “Aren’t we?”

“He just asked me if I want to walk again. Who told him? Would Thor? Or can he read minds?” Rhodey paused. “ _Can_ he read minds?”

“Not that we know of. He probably just guessed.” Banner shrugged, as though it were obvious. Both sets of eyes turned on him. Loki appreciated sharp, unassuming Banner - on the ship, they’d come to something of an understanding. I leave you alone, you won’t bring out the giant angry monster. “Tony asked if he can heal paralysis and he hasn’t seen you walk without the suit. He’s not an idiot. More like a mad scientist.”

“Or like the Joker, when the Joker dressed up as a nurse.” Everyone turned to look at Stark. “What?”

Rhodey lifted his eyebrows, “so… can we trust him? To heal me, that is.”

“He’s been helpful so far.”

“Helpful isn’t trustable.”

Stark shrugged. “I mean, you already can’t walk without aids, how can it get worse?”

“God, that was bad on so many levels,” Banner said, rubbing his face. “He could be killed for one, Tony!”

“Asides from that,” Stark waved a hand.

“I’d rather not die, if that’s good with you guys,” Rhodey said dryly.

“He knows if he killed you, he won’t make it half a mile out of town before he finds himself in a cage again.”

“We couldn’t cage him last time.”

“We’ve got better. We get it more, this time,” Stark reasoned. “And that Strange guy - he could help. Thor would help, too. He’s not in his brother’s pocket anymore. And besides, I don’t think Loki is at full power right now."

Now, that was an interesting deduction.

Stark carried on. “He’s pretty insistent over a “magic place”. I think it’s tied to his power, somehow - didn’t Thor say he and Hela got their powers from Asgard? Maybe he wants to make something like that.”

“Thor doesn’t seem to be exactly struggling,” Banner said.

“He’s not got his hammer, though, does he?”

Banner shrugged. “I don’t like assuming he’s not at full power. He is dangerous. We know that. But we’ve got to decide if he’s dangerous but on our side, because we know we can’t trust him fully.”

“But… I think if you want to risk it Rhodey,” Stark eyed his friend up and down. “I’ve done what I can with the suit but if you lose it, if you-- I don’t think he’ll risk losing our - if wobbly - alliance.”

“He’s on thin ice,” murmured Banner, “and he knows it. He’s even saying please and thank you.”

Rhodey looked between the two and sighed. “I’m gonna have to think this over. I don’t know.”

Rhodey turned his back on the pair and left. Loki turned his attention to Stark who lent on the table running a hand through his hair.

“If Loki hurts Rhodey--” Stark shook his head, he looked haunted like a man who had seen hell and made it out by the skin of his teeth. “We’ve lost too many, Bruce. Clint. Steve--” Stark worked his jaw and fell silent again.

“He won’t.” Banner told him, but sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Stark. Loki was confused by the sentimentality; how could he know? Banner knew him best of the morals, but he didn’t know him well by any means.

Unless, of course, Banner was saying it for the benefit of Stark. Oh.

They were silent for a few moments, sharing a meaningful look that Loki couldn’t decipher, and then Stark stood up straight, a mask put in place and turned back to his work. Banner followed his lead, not mentioning Tony’s moment.

Loki stepped out of the room feeling like he had seen something he shouldn’t’ve.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki approached the large tent that was pitched just a little bit outside of the main settlement, at an odd angle. He tapped on the tarp. “Knock knock." 

“Oh, piss off,” said Brunnhilde.

“I haven’t seen you in four days. What are you doing in there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Loki chuckled.

“Are you decent?” He heard a loud sigh, and her whispering, and another voice responding. “I don’t care who’s in there, just be dressed.”

“Alright, alright, give us a moment.”

Loki waited, admiring the view. Though it was a little bit further out, it was closer to the lake, and had a nice view over the clearing. Brunnhilde had chosen well, and somehow managed to retain her place, even after her short planned departure at the same time as Loki. After a few minutes, and a few giggles from inside the tent, the ties were finally loosened.

He pushed aside the door flaps and stooped a little bit to enter. Brunnhilde sat on her bedroll in her day armour whilst a blonde woman combed her hair, preening at herself in a vanity.

“Well isn’t this all very decent,” he commented, looking around the spacious tent, which was fairly neat and airy.

“You asked for us to be clothed,” she drawled. “Drink?”

Loki nodded and she got up to go rummage in a crate with STARK INDUSTRIES written on the side. In it was a multitude of bottles in varying states of emptiness. “When was the last time you ate?”

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“Three days ago.”

“You should eat today, then.”

She wrinkled her nose as she poured a glass of amber liquid. “Nothing good to eat. I never thought I’d say it, but I miss Sakkar. I mean, it was a shithole, but it was a good shithole.”

Loki accepted the drink when she handed it to him. “I know the feeling. The Grandmaster at least had some respect for me, even if it was as a bedwarmer. Here I’m second rate.”

“I suppose you can’t really sleep your way to the top when it’s your brother.”

Loki laughed, spluttering over his drink. He over to the woman in the corner. “Such foul language in front of your maiden, Brunnhilde.”

“Oh, she’s heard worse,” she said wickedly. The woman turned around and smiled shyly. Brunnhilde must have caught some expression in his face, because she frowned and said, “you should try find someone.”

Someone. The thought was almost laughable. So many years later, he still wished for Sigyn, for his family; how could another compare? Even a bedfellow seemed cold and callous compared to it. And even if he was to try and find… _something_ , he had extremely slim pickings. No one on Asgard had even announced a pregnancy - everything interpersonal had ground to a halt, more distracted by larger things.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate. Besides, ‘tis Thor’s turn.”

“What, do you always wait for Thor to have someone before you can?”

Loki sprawled out in a comfortable chair and Brunnhilde did the same on the other side of the short table. Loki appreciated her lack of modesty - it was refreshing amongst Thor and the rest of his mortal friends. “No, but I fear the mortals find me… what is the word?”

“Sleezy.”

“... I was thinking unsavory.”

“How about a greasy-haired little good for nothing weasel?” The woman snorted from the corner.

“Yes, that’s quite enough, thank you.” Brunnhilde shot him a sharp grin. “I don’t want to fall from their eyes any more. You know how they find all of it.”

“I dunno, I haven’t been told off yet.” The woman stood and approached her, looking prim and presentable. “Are you leaving?”

“Mm,” she hummed, “I fear my father may set off hunting dogs soon.”

“Ah, well, fair thee well,” Brunnhilde said, reaching up to kiss her. “Text me, yeah?”

The woman left and Loki caught himself smiling at the look Brunnhilde gave as she left. “A _permanent_ companion, perhaps?”

“I’m done with ‘permanent companions’, to be honest,” she said, taking a sip. “I find them to be rather short lived.”

Loki downed the rest of his drink, knowing the feeling all too well. “Come. We should go to the community hall and get food.”

“Ugh, what time is it?”

“Noon. Luncheon is being served.”

She groaned but heaved herself up out of the chair. “I hope it’s beef stew.”

“It’s soup.”

“Fuck!” Loki laughed at the language and grabbed her glass off her, placing it on the table. “I don’t want to--”

“Stop being a petulant child and sustain yourself, please,” he said, dragging her out by her bracer.

Almost as soon as he did that, he was confronted by Rhodey at the end of the path. He looked between them, unimpressed. If Loki had been faint of heart, he may have blushed and attempted to explain himself.

Loki was not faint of heart.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Rhodey said.

“Who is this guy?” asked Brunnhilde.

“Rhodey. A friend of Stark’s. You’d better go on, I’ll speak to you later.”

Brunnhilde looked between them both but shrugged and said goodbye. Rhodey stared at him, thinking, hesitating. Loki waited patiently, knowing what was coming.

“If - hypothetically - you were right, could you really heal me?”

“Hypothetically,” Loki said as he lifted his eyebrows, “I could. In fact, it is a fairly easy procedure.”

“But you could kill me.”

Loki glided towards him in a few quick steps until there were only inches between them. “If I wanted to, I could kill you right now.”

He reached for his magic and created multiple projections of himself to surround them both. Rhodey took an unconscious step back and the familiar whine of Stark’s weapons sounded.

“Brunnhilde is the closest one to us and I doubt she’s going to run to your rescue,” Loki and his copies spoke together in canon, grinning like a predator. “This petty suit is no match for me.”

Rhodey’s helmet slid up and Loki was certain Stark was already on his way, so he dispersed his copies and stepped back. “I have no reason to kill you,” he said easily. “In fact, it would be to my detriment.”

“And you have a reason help me? You don’t even know me.”

“Perhaps not but, the Asgardians, although not my people, they were so for many years. I want to help them and if that means helping the Avengers, so be it.”

“So I’m a pawn to get everybody to trust you.”

Loki was growing bored once again. “They’re not going to trust me no matter what I do. I made the offer because I can. You have my word I will heal you. That is all. Take it or leave it.” He smirked. “Hypothetically, of course.” He glanced up as Iron man appeared above the tree line, lowering himself to the ground beside Rhodey. “Stark.”

“You okay?” Stark said, completely ignoring Loki.

“I’m fine.” Rhodey sounded exasperated. “Do it.”

“I presume this is no longer hypothetical?”

“It’s not.”

“Good choice.”

“What? What just happened?” asked Stark.

“Loki’s going to heal me,” said Rhodey tiredly.

“Aw, fuck.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat before,” said Stark, who was munching away at some sweet confectionary the mortals enjoyed, “but you’re really pigging out.”

Loki threw the chicken bone onto his plate and licked some grease off his fingers, then smiled at him wolfishly. “It takes energy to heal, more so than other magic. Not only do you have to create, but you have to create to great accuracy, so that the body accepts the new flesh.”

He picked up the last chunk of chicken breast whilst Stark spoke worriedly. “So it’s possible for Rhody’s body to reject this?”

Loki chewed while he thought and swallowed. “Yes, but I’ve never had healing be rejected. Though, I’ve also never worked on a wound so old, and I haven’t worked on a Midgardian for some time,” he added with a shrug.

“That’s promising. You know,” he said, leaning forward, “I don’t really know how your magic works.”

“Not many do.”

“Way to make a guy feel special,” Stark said. “Would you be opposed to me running some tests?”

“Yes, probably.” Loki said.

“Okay, but would you do it anyways?”

Loki looked up at Stark, sharp-eyed. He tilted his head and grinned again. “Perhaps. What’s in it for me?”

“An advanced understanding of where, exactly, your powers come from.”

“I already have that. It’s just not the answer Midgardian so-called scientists like.”

“So where _does_ it come from?”

Loki pushed his plate away. “All things.”

“Then why don’t I have magic?”

“Because,” he said slowly, as if to a child, “you are of Midgard. There are very few who can wield _seiðr_ on Midgard.”

“So the planet you’re from matters.”

“Of course,” Loki said, a little bit surprised at the jump, “as much as the dirt in which which a plant is sewn matters.”

“Huh.” Stark scratched his pathetic little beard. “So how many _seiðr_ people were there on Asgard?”

“That is a difficult question. All Aesir have some level of ability for magic, but it is usually restricted to substantially faster healing, and perhaps a party trick. Actual magic that can affect others…” He paused thoughtfully. “I’d say one in fifteen. _Seiðr_ is far more uncommon. Perhaps forty or fifty in all.”

“So not all who can do magic are _seiðr._ ”

“Most in America are literate, as I understand, and yet you are not all scholars.”

Stark grinned. “You got me there. So you’re a pretty rare bunch, huh? How many male _seiðr_ people are there?”

Loki gave a cold stare, hackles rising. “I will not be made a mockery of, Stark.”

He threw his hands up. “Of course not. I’m just curious. Asgardian culture seems so similar to ours, but also very different at times, what with the magic and the dying in battle and the eternal glory.”

“There are probably equal amounts of those who can do magic that affects others amongst the male population. Most practice in secret, so there are only a handful of men who openly practice _seiðr._ ”

“And you’re one.” He inclined his head. “Isn’t Thor kind of a magician too? He can summon thunder, rain, electricity…”

Loki sighed. “Thor wields power that is not his own. It was given to him at birth, but he was not born with it. He does not understand it; the Mjolnir handled the interconnectedness. It was the catalyst, not the chemicals.”

“Right,” he said thoughtfully. “So to perform magic, you’ve got to… what? Be at one with nature?”

To his surprise, Loki didn’t terribly mind the questions when they weren’t as accusatory as Thor’s - Stark seemed to have a genuine and truthful desire to understand. That was not so easy to find on Asgard. It helped that Stark was not so simple minded as the rest.

Loki’s brow drew together, thinking how best to phrase it. “It is not so simple as that. You must listen to the cosmos and know it well. All things have a state of being they are currently in, and a projection for the future. A fruit is to rot, or a rock to stay as the tides wash over it, or a wound to fester or heal. It is being able to control these fates through your own desire, knowledge, and understanding - _that_ is what makes _seiðr_.”

Stark was silent for a few moments. “Why is it so bad that men do magic?”

“I know not. Odin used _seiðr_ , too.”

He frowned. “But if Odin was a magician, then why doesn’t Thor like you doing it?”

Loki waved a hand. “Thor cannot make sense between his arse and his backside.” Stark bit a laugh. “Odin was accomplished in battle, and he was Thor’s father. And he practiced more or less in secret - an open secret, as you Midgardians call it. I, however, chose not to. And for that, I am hated. Besides, there are behaviours we accept from our parents because they are the norm that we would never accept in our loved ones.”

“That sounds familiar.”

Loki leaned forward, interested. “Daddy issues, Stark?” he asked innocently.

He laughed again, delighted at Loki using mortal vernacular. “Why, looking for advice?”

“Why, I don’t have a father.”

“I’d say that’s one helluva daddy issue.” Loki raised an eyebrow and leaned backwards. Stark stood, gathered both of their plates. “I’ll meet you at the stream. And by the way,” he called over his shoulder. “You’ve got chicken in your teeth.”

 

* * *

 

 

Rhodey, Stark, Thor, Romanov, and Banner all arrived at the beck where Loki was waiting patiently. Rhodey was shirtless, as Loki requested. Loki himself had sectioned off the front part of his hair into two braids that met at the back to stop it getting in his way, and was down to loose linen trousers and a longsleeve shirt with a string-drawn placket, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“Have you been hennaing yourself?” Stark asked with a smirk. He then immediately stumbled on a root, and it was only in grabbing Banner that he managed to stay upright.

Loki glanced at the rune symbols he had drawn onto his skin in thick black paint, made from charcoal dust and animal fat. “I will have to draw them on Rhodey, too,” he informed them, then hissed when they got too close. “Do not step inside the circle or you will smudge it!”

They all simultaneously looked down to see a circle made of multicoloured stones with symbols carved into them, lying in the damp mud. He had chosen this place for that purpose rather than defile the inside of a building; inside the circle was runes he drew with two fingers, leaves from certain plants, and stones, all in an order they would not understand.

“Alright, Banksy, what next?” asked Stark.

“Rhody, take off your assists,” he instructed. He did so, stepping out of them nervously, Stark and Banner either side for him to lean on. “Lie - gently! - down, in the centre.”

They lowered him in. Thor shuffled uneasily, probably disliking the symbols and more naturalistic method of magic. “Brother...”

“Shut _up_ , Thor, it is only because you will not let me build a place of magic that I have to resort to _this_ ,” he snarled. “Now, may I see to the patient? I ask of you all to be silent unless it is necessary to interrupt me. Speak now, or hold your incessant tongues.”

Banner crouched down to where Rhody lay and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “Anything wrong, shout, and we’ll stop it, alright? I’m here after to help. Good luck.”

“Thanks, doc,” Rhody whispered, putting on a brave face. Loki noted the thin sheen sweat on his skin and heartbeat visible in his throat. He was anxious, and scared, Loki noted, rather hating the observations - that he wasn’t trusted to do what he did best of all.

“Do anything to him and we’ll kill you, very slowly,” Romanov said cooly.

He looked up at her, unperturbed. “Noted.”

Loki grabbed another chunk of animal fat and mixed it with charcoal in his palm. When Rhodey sent him a disgusted look, he murmured, “it’s fat or spit.”

“... Fine,” he conceded, glaring.

He set about drawing the runes that he had memorised when he was very young, only just beginning to understand the craft. “Now, this may feel very odd,” he explained firmly, slotting back into a healer’s mind, which he hadn’t for some time. If these healings were happening on Thor, he would not be so kind, nor probably bother with the runes, but Rhodey was scared, new to battle, and mortal. “It may feel... overwhelming to have these senses back, so if you would like me to slow down, say. However, it is generally better to get it all over and done with as soon as possible. I will also be regenerating lost muscle tissue, so you’ll feel pins and needles.”

He settled cross-legged to look at his work, which would make this as easy as possible. Symbols on the forehead, to protect the mind. On the neck, for the Norns, the sinewy tendons like their woven strings. On the arms, for strength. On the stomach, for guts. And on the feet, for grounding. Lastly, over the heart. For goodwill to all the universe.

“Shall we begin?”

He nodded. Loki placed a hand on Rhodey’s stomach, pressing down firmly, and began to channel the energy with whispering directions. _Go, heal, reconnect, divide._

Rhodey gasped when he first felt it seep into him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the observers stand up straight in alertness, but Loki carried on, summoning greater and greater power until all he could feel was _giving_. He envisioned the spinal cord snapping back together as his golden magic danced and squirmed over it, each small thread gathering to a mighty rope.

Rhodey grunted and grabbed Loki’s hand, spluttering incoherently. “St--”

Loki filtered the energy and he relaxed slightly. He focused for a little while more on regenerating muscle tissue; imagining swelling and creation, and tiny veins that snaked around them like roots. All too soon for Rhodey, he again drove his magic more powerfully into the spine again, going for a last push.

“Ohmygod,” Rhodey said all in one gasp. “I can’t--"

“Almost there,” soothed Loki through gritted teeth. His stomach ached in hunger, despite having feasted only a few hours ago. “Almost there.”

He gave one last large push, forcing himself through skin and flesh and blood and bones; his fingernails digging in like he was scrabbling for purchase. He sent some magic to the brain to make it remember how it used to be, then abruptly, the final thread snapped into place.

Loki withdrew from his patient entirely with a long, shaky breath. That should not have been that difficult.

He leaned backwards on his hands where he sat, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings as he panted with his eyes hooded and cast upwards - the dirt under his palm, the birds, the breeze, and the onlookers. Rhodey was sniffing and shuffling, his bare feet curling and digging into the ground.

“Holy shit,” said Stark. “He actually did it.”

Banner was by his side in an instant, doing check after check after check, whilst the others crowded, grinning and congratulating. Loki stood and slipped away to the beck to wash the persistent pigment and sweat off his skin. He took out the braids and combed his wet fingers through his hair. Lastly, he rolled his sleeves down.

When he turned back around, Rhodey was on his feet, laughing in that shocked, happy, nervous way that Midgardians did as they all chatted on delightedly. Thor was looking at Loki, though, with a confused expression.

Loki just couldn’t catch a break, it seemed.

He picked up each pebble in his circle - no use wasting perfectly good healing stones - and put them into a cloth drawstring bag. He cast an easy spell to wipe the mud and destroy the symbols he drew. This wasn’t necessary, but one book he read as a young child mentioned power being stolen by left-behind spellwork, so ever since he’d always done it regardless. Just in case.

Rhodey suddenly seemed to notice that Loki was there, and his jubilant grin faded into something more serious. “Thank you,” he said, holding out his hand. “Really.”

Loki took the wrist and grasped it firmly. “You’re very welcome,” he replied, silky-smooth.

This seemed to unsettle Rhodey enough that he motioned for everyone to begin walking back. He was wobbly on his legs like a foal, but they otherwise seemed strong enough, though no doubt would tire easily until he gained more muscle mass genuinely.

Thor held back to walk level with him.

“Yes?” Loki said, tiredly.

Thor was silent for a few moments. “You did well, brother,” he said quietly whilst staring steadfastly ahead.

“Oh,” Loki said in surprise, before he could stop himself. “Ah. Thank you.”

“You did not over exert yourself, did you?”

Loki rolled his shoulders. “It’s been a long while since I had to do anything of that sort outside of battle,” he admitted. “I find it more difficult without the adrenaline, or without complete focus.”

“If you needed adrenaline, I could have threatened you with a mighty battleaxe while you worked,” Thor said blandly, and it took Loki a moment to realise that he was saying it in _dry wit_.

“I appreciate the offer,” Loki countered, “but the position is already filled by Romanov’s mere presence.”

“Ah, she wouldn’t harm you, so long as you hadn’t done anything to her.”

“You said that of Sif, Thor, until she pierced your gut with a sword because you so kindly informed her friend that she was not as lovely as Sif.”

Thor laughed. “Those were the days. I am glad Sif was off-world at the time of Hela’s attack.”

“Stranded, though,” Loki noted.

“Alive,” Thor insisted with a sharp glance. “We may one day get her back off that wretched realm, and her contingent. If only we had the Bifrost!”

For a moment, Loki considered telling Thor that he had a way to rescue their lost men and women, stuck in another realm. But he knew if he told anybody that he had taken Tesseract from Odin’s vaults, it would be taken from him and he would lose his only escape. Along with the frail alliance he had gained from the Avengers. Though he did admittedly regret having to lie to Thor, especially after a somewhat tentative ceasefire, he just couldn’t risk it. He was, after all, self-serving to the end.

With the moment of weakness gone, Loki said instead,  “if only, indeed."

 

* * *

 

 

“Rise and shine!” said a voice that jerked Loki awake.  
  
He peered through sleepy eyes at Brunnhilde, who was tying up his window drapes to let more light in. “What in the name of Odin’s beard are you doing?” he groaned, shielding his eyes. “It’s barely dawn, you useless pig brained reprobate _whore_ of a shield-maiden.”  
  
“Someone’s not a morning person,” she said, sing-song. “I want company to go into the nearby town. I brought you a water bowl. You’ll want to use it while it’s still warm.”  
  
She brought the wooden bowl over to his bed and shoved it into his waiting hands. He blinked up at her and sighed. “I was going to assist in the plans for Friggahof.”

“What’s Friggahof?”

He swung his feet over the side of the bed and walked over to the table, which was adorned with various bits; his daggers, a nail brush, a small tin, a bar of fragranced soap, and his hand wraps for sparring. He hadn't replaced his mirror, and probably wouldn't, either. Brunnhilde sat herself down on his bed as he picked up his towel and lay it over his bare shoulders.

“It is what Thor and I agreed to name the building of magic.”

“About time. Is that why you’ve been on a disappearing act all week?”

Loki turned and grinned wolfishly at her. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you missed me.”

“You might be an all-mighty _seiðmenn_ and all, but I do wonder if you could stop me suffocating you in your sleep.”

“That seems much too clean for you.” He turned back to his table slicing a small piece of soap off with his dagger (he shouldn’t - Odin would’ve had a fit if he saw him use his weapons so carelessly, but dead men tell no tales) to dissolve into the water. “May I ask why we are going into town, or is that to be a mystery as well?”  
  
“Drinks,” she said gleefully.  
  
“Isn’t it always,” he sighed. “Why aren’t you brewing your own?” He asked, washing his hands, then splashing water up onto his face and neck.  
  
Brunnhilde sighed. “I would do, but I know not where to get the ingredients.”  
  
“Ask Stark.”  
  
“I would rather keep my conversations with Stark to a minimum,” she said. “For fear he gets any unsavoury ideas.”  
  
Loki grinned and begun on his hair, washing it out from his scalp with water and his fine-toothed comb meticulously. “Why, my fair lady, thou art so proper and innocent, like fresh virgin snow on autumn’s eve.”  
  
She laughed loudly. “Quite. Anyways, these drinks aren’t all for myself.”  
  
“No? How surprising.”  
  
“I have to keep you all on your toes somehow.”  
  
“So who are they for?” Loki grinned playfully. “Or is it your lady companion?”  
  
“No. Thor is having a party to celebrate the summer solstice and asked me to pick up supplies.”  
  
Loki stilled his hands for just a moment, the curious ghost of a moment long ago where he discovered that the Warriors Three had avoided telling him about a feast so that they didn’t have to invite him. “I see.”  
  
“Will you come?”  
  
He carried on, combining the last of the grime out of the ends. “Perhaps,” he said after a while.  
  
She grinned. “I bet you’re a real lightweight.”  
  
“I’m no drinker,” Loki admitted. He slid his towel off his shoulders and began to press the water out of his hair. “I always preferred hallucinogens, whenever we went to Alfheim, anyways.”  
  
“I’ve never tried any.”  
  
“They make for a curious experience,” he said, “and Thor swore off them when we were young warriors because I once fed him some without his knowledge before we went into battle.”  
  
She laughed at that, and Loki grinned toothily in return. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”  
  
“Oh, Thor wasn’t on my bad side. He is just so delightful to play with.”

He picked up the tin and unscrewed the lid; inside was a beeswax putty. He took a small amount and worked it in between his fingers, then ran it through his hair.  
  
Brunnhilde watched him curiously. “I didn’t know you used wax.”  
  
“Keeps my hair from curling too much,” he said after a moment, feeling a little self conscious at the grooming routine.  
  
“It’s nice to know your hair isn’t actually all that greasy.”  
  
He snorted. He had always found it annoying that he probably bathed more frequently than Thor, and yet he was the greasy one.  
  
She grabbed a linen shirt from his dresser and threw it to him. He caught it easily and slipped it on. “Where’s your day armour?”  
  
“In the chest.”  
  
She pulled it out and looked at the complex over-layering of leather, mail, linen and buckles for a few moments. “You’re gonna need help putting this on, aren’t you?”  
  
He took the leather trousers out of her hands. “I can dress myself,” he said. “But if you’re offering to help with my clothes...”

Brunnhilde looked at him oddly for a moment, then her face arranged itself into something like incredulity.  
  
“You wish,” she replied cooly. “I’ll meet you outside in five.”  
  
“Prissy,” he said after her as she left the room.  
  
“Hussy!” she returned loudly.  
  
“I am not a hussy!” yelled Thor from his own room.  
  
“Not everything is about you, brother!” Loki yelled back. He looked at his armour ruefully and sighed.

Five minutes later and a few confused straps that had somehow twisted despite having been laid perfectly in the chest the day before, Loki emerged from his room to see Brunnhilde sitting on the throne.

“You’d better not let Thor catch you doing that,” he warned.

She turned around to smile. “It’s rude not to offer your guests a seat.”

“That’s a really good line,” he replied.

They began down the path of Nyrlif, and then were out into the open woods. It was a clear and bright morning with dew on the grass, the sun well up into a blue sky mottled with clouds. They crossed the beck where Loki had healed Rhodey the week before. Rhodey was doing well and he had quickly relearned walking, but his legs were still skinnier in proportion to the rest of him; Loki expected it would take a few months to get back to normal.

Within half an hour, they had arrived in Sharpsburg, the nearby mortal town. With a population 900, it boasted a diner, a small shop, a library, a bed and breakfast, and a post office. On Saturdays, it hosted a small farmer’s market.

Today, it seemed, was a Saturday.

Loki and Brunnhilde weaved in between the throng of Midgardians to get to the shop. They got strange looks; everyone knew they were there, but they’d not experienced any visitors, except those to the other side of the lake and a welcoming party shortly after arrival (or so Loki was told). Loki had also been told by Tony that it was seen as strange that they carried their weapons with them even into the sleepy little settlement, but no Aesir would ever go without. It pays to be prepared.

The shop too was busy, though not as much as outside. It was a very strange mix of all different kinds of foods that would not have been sold in the same place on Asgard; bread, meat, fish, confectionary, and ground grains.

Brunnhilde seemed to have a sense for the alcohol, heading to the correct stall without delay. “I presume you know what they would like for the… party.” The word felt uncomfortable in his mouth, like poison that would kill him if only he were to swallow it.

“Stark said beer, and lots of. I personally want more absinthe.”

“Did you not say it is difficult to acquire?”

“Sadly.” She picked out a few bottles. She opened one and a woman nearby made a noise. “What?” The woman was wearing a label which said ‘Hello! My name is Alison.’

“You-- ma’am,” she stuttered, eyes flickering back and forth between them and their visible weapons, absolutely terrified. “You shouldn’t open that unless you’re buying it.”

“I need to know if it’s worth buying.” Brunnhilde shrugged, lifting the bottle.

Loki sent the shopkeeper an apologetic look. “I apologise on behalf of my… companion. We will be sure to pay for any bottles we open.” Brunnhilde looked at him with distaste. “Did you not say Stark’s paying for it all?”

“Good point.” She handed him the red bottle. “Ugh, we need two more of that.” She then immediately opened another.

The bought a few different bottles and a two large crates of beer, and Loki was glad for his strength when Brunnhilde made him carry most of it as they begun to walk back to Nyrlif. They should’ve brought a pack, but instead all they had was flimsy plastic bags supplied by the shopkeep.

“Do we not need any food?”

“Why send me if they wanted me to get food?”

Loki’s response was cut off as he instead found himself at the wrong end of a sharp arrow. He froze, and glanced down the metal shaft to find none other than Clint Barton, who had it drawn into an impressive longbow, his packed quiver slung over his casually-clad shoulder. Loki grinned widely, chuckling. “Ah, I was wondering when another one of you would turn up. You’re like maggots.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” He looked down to Loki’s baggage. “And why are you _shopping_?”

“My brother is throwing a party. I was dragged into this.” He answered honestly. “And I could ask the same of you. I was under the impression you were on the wrong side of the rest of your so called _team_.”

Barton rose an eyebrow, glancing at Brunnhilde. To Loki’s annoyance, she didn’t look like she was about to jump to his defence anytime soon - in fact, she was observing with amused indifference. “They haven’t killed you yet?”

“No, and I think if best if you could _refrain_.”

Barton smiled and narrowed his eyes. “Give me one good reason why not.”

“Because,” Loki reached for his magic incase he was wrong, “she could kill you before you can lose another arrow to kill her.”

“She looks like she couldn’t give a shit, Loki. I don’t think anyone’s leaping to your defence here.”

“You’re saying that like I need a defence.”

“Unless you can magic out of the way of an arrow at your throat, I think you’re pretty helpless.”

“Or,” Brunnhilde sighed, “how about you two stop having a dick measuring contest for the sake of your own dignity. And _you_ can get your reason why not to kill him from the rest of the Ascenders. Gods knows I could use one too.” Brunnhilde finished her sentence with an eyeroll and she turned to go, continuing on her way to Nyrlif.

Barton eyed Loki warily, Loki stared back as innocently as possible. Finally, Barton lowered his bow, keeping the arrow notched. He gestured for Loki to start walking with a quick jerk of his head. “You first.”

“And allow you to shoot me in the back?”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Do you see a gun on me?”

“I see one dagger and if I had to guess you’ve got at least four or five more on you.”

“So? I’m hardily going to _shoot_ you with them.”

“Just walk together, you idiots.” Brunnhilde shouted back. Loki took a step, eyeing Barton until the archer copied his movements, “who the Hel is this guy, anyways?”

“Clint Barton. A very helpful Avenger.” Loki said, smirking. Barton glared at him, swapping his arrows around. Loki didn’t dare ask what kind the new arrow was, but it had a purple band around the fletch.

“Brunnhilde,” she said, turning around for a moment - just long enough to flash a grin. “But you can call me Valkyrie.”

“In that case, you can call me Hawkeye.”

“That’s a stupid name.”

“So’s Valkyrie. And Brunnhilde.” Clint argued, offended.

“My name means “Choosers of the Fallen.” Yours is literally the eye of a bird. And not even the best bird.”

“What’s wrong with hawks? They’re graceful, they can see rodents from 15,000 yards away--”

“Can I offer you some advice, Barton?”

“No.”

“It is best to ignore her taunts,” Loki continued as though Barton had not spoken.

The rest of the journey was done in silence, the only sounds that of the forest until in the distance, finally, was Nyrlif.

Despite Barton’s outward confidence, Loki noticed his footsteps falter when the town came into view. Interesting.

Nobody paid them much attention as they walked through the village until they reached the main hall. Stark and Romanov stepped outside of Huginngard. Stark had the iron suit on and the helmet down. Barton stopped a few paces from them both. Loki placed his bags down, ready to defend himself if he got caught in the crossfire of a fight - or if Barton decided their reason for not killing him wasn’t enough.

“Y’know, being a fugitive usually means you stay in hiding,” Stark said.

Barton looked around, and shrugged. “You know where I live. Nobody’s tried to come for me.”

“I guess nobody thinks you’re dangerous enough.”

Clint rose an eyebrow, and gestured to his bow. “Wanna repeat that, pal?”

To Loki’s surprise, Stark grinned widely and the suit opened up allowing him to step out of it. He approached Barton hand held out, “it’s good to see you, Clint.”

“And you, Tony.” Clint accepted the half hug from the man.

Stark looked over to Romanov, who was still looking on impassively - though Loki thought that if he looked closely enough, he might just see a smile. “Aren’t you happy to see him, Nat?”

Romanov just rose an eyebrow. “Why do you think he turned up in time for a party?”

“You traitor.” There was no heat in the words and he put a hand on Clint's back. “C’mon, I’ll show you around. Snape and Moaning Myrtle, why don’t you take those bags into the hall?

 

* * *

 

 

Loki sat on the log, looking up towards the stars. He had tried to keep on moving enough that he didn’t feel the acute pain of everything he’d vowed to disown. Somehow, Asgard being unavailable permanently was so much worse when he’d just chosen to exile himself. 

The door opened and Banner walked out. He didn’t even notice Loki at first, but then yelped and clutched his shirt. “Oh my God! Don’t do that!”

“I am just sitting here,” Loki said.

“Yeah, well, _don’t_.” Banner gave him a sidelong glance and pushed up his glasses. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask the same of you.” Loki returned.

“I was just getting some air. Parties make me nervous,” he admitted. He was a little flushed on the cheeks and ears - drunk, Loki realised.

“Probably for the best then. I don’t fancy meeting the Hulk again.”

“Does he make you feel like a puny God?” He giggled. Loki looked at him like he’d grown additional heads.

“Well he certainly doesn’t make me feel spectacular,” Loki replied dryly.

Banner sat down beside him, swaying slightly. “Don’t like parties either?”

“Not ones full of people that hate me.”

“Nobody in there hates you. Well, maybe Clint. But nobody else. We just, really, really, really, really, _really_ dislike you.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, buddy,” crooned Banner, wrapping an arm around Loki’s shoulders.

“Have you gone mad?” Loki asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I think Tony spiked my drink though.”

“You _think_?”

Banner looked confused. It wasn’t the first time Loki’s wit had gone over someone’s head, so he sighed. Banner carried on, chipper. “You should come in! Ha-ha. Or come out. Wait! I didn’t-- I’m not-- I’m not coming onto you!”

Loki looked between him and the arm on his shoulder. “Right.”

“Come iiiiin,” Banned whined, thankfully removing himself from Loki’s side.

“What do you care?”

He sighed and bit his lip. “I know what it’s like to be outside.”

Loki turned away, unsure how to arrange his face. Banner grabbed his arm, and looked as if he might fall over for a second, then was preoccupied with balancing himself.

Loki looked up at him in surprise. “You’re not coming onto me again, are you?”

“Shhh,” Banner said conspiratorially. “You don’t wanna walk in, right? That’s the worst bit. Walking in and everyone sees you and it’s awful. So we’ll sneak in.”

“I think you’re overestimating your ability to be covert, Banner.”

“I think you’re _underestimating_ the Incredible Hulk. He is _incredible_.”

“Yes,” Loki said blandly. “I think Thor mentioned something about the Hulk’s incredible size.”

“I don’t recall,” said Banner. He dragged Loki to his feet - which Loki allowed, because otherwise Banner would not stand a chance to lift a Jotun, even such a weedy one as him - and then into Huginngard.

He heard loud voices and music coming from the council room.

Sure enough, their attempt at sneaking didn’t go as planned when all heads turned to look at them from the table they were sat around. “Maybe if you cover your eyes and don’t see them, they won’t see you.” Banner suggested in a loud whisper.

“Please, Stark, I beg of you to never get him drunk again.”

“I beg that you do.” Brunnhilde asked, “he’s hilarious.”

“Hilariously dangerous,” said Rhodey. “Who’s idea was this?”

Stark shrugged. “Beats me.”

The illusion was rather broken when Banner attempted to wink, but more did an oddly heavy delayed blink, and Stark winked back, far more suavely.

“The Hulk will not hurt us, even if he makes an appearance.” Thor boomed, “his ego is still wounded from when I beat him in our fight!”

Banner scratched his stubble. “That still doesn’t sound right.”

“Thor, I was _there_ ,” Loki said, pulling out the chair beside Brunnhilde. “You lost that fight. You were beaten to a pummel.”

“ _That_ sounds more like it.”

Thor glowered to himself and Brunnhilde gave Loki a drink.

“What is it?”

“It _was_ wine, but I put additional whiskey in it.”

Loki grimaced, his nose wrinkling as he tasted it. “This is disgusting.”

“I wish I had her when I was in college.”

“You wish you had me now, Stark,” Brunnhilde said, rolling her eyes.

Stark grinned wolfishly. “A man can dream. The whole armour, the sword - what was it, Dragondagger--”

“Dragonfang.”

“That. And the whole Xena thing you’ve got going. Oof! You would’ve been fifteen year old me’s wet dream, I tell ya.” He turned to the rest of the table. “Am I right or am I right?”

Everyone stared at him in various degrees of disgust. Two daggers suddenly soared past each ear, one after the other and into the wall behind him with a twang. Loki and Brunnhilde both looked away innocently, sipping their cocktails.

Stark’s mouth was agape. Romanov stifled a laugh. Banner swayed, disorientated, which wasn’t anything to do with the daggers.

“That was _creepy_ ,” Banner said. “Like _twins_.”

And, in the way that old friends did, the table found the comment funnier than it had any right to be. Barton suddenly stood up and stalked out of the room, his face carefully, tensely blank.

“Did I upset him?” Banner asked.

“No,” Romanov said, “he’s just... having a tough time.”

Everyone turned to look at Loki, who tried to look defiant, but felt tired of it all. The useless guilt; the endless attempts to regain something he himself threw away.

“Oh,” Banner said, twigging on. “Right.”

“What?” Brunnhilde asked, looking between all of them. “What did you do?”

“Loki brainwashed him last time he was here.”

Loki stared into his glass, ice in his stomach. The table was silent.

“It wasn’t _him_. He was just useful. Could’ve been anyone. I didn’t know--” Loki tried to finish, but found the words trapped in his throat. “I didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t make it okay. It’s not okay to brainwash someone.” Romanov said, leaning forward.

“I am not a child,” he snarled.

“You sure act like it. You haven’t apologised for what you’ve done,” Stark said.

Loki wanted to throw out some line - should a boot apologise to an ant? Should a dagger apologise to its victim? Instead, his throat was dry and unworkable.

“He wants you to apologise,” Banner whispered.

“I know that,” Loki spat.

“So apologise!”

“I _can’t_.”

Brunnhilde was looking in between them all, confused. “Why not? Just say you’re sorry. You’re a big boy, I’m sure you’ve apologised before. Own up,” she said, shrugging.

Silence descended. Loki was still staring downwards, feeling like a chastised child.

Then, suddenly, gently, was Thor: “ _Brother_. Please. For me?”

Loki laughed, but it was humourless. In fact, he felt rather like he did before he threw himself off the Bifrost. Cold. Raw. Broken. “You claim to know me so _well_ , and yet you do not see when I am not myself.”

“What?”

Romanov suddenly gave a little gasp. What a clever little spider, catching Loki in her web. “You were brainwashed, too.”

Stark looked indignant. “You’re not actually gonna believe him, are you, Natasha? It isn’t a fucking Get Out Of Jail card.”

“Is this true, Loki?” Thor asked him, his arm reached across the table, stopping short of touching Loki, like his skin might burn if they met. _Brother_ , Thor said, as if it were true in any sense at all.

Loki looked up from his drink for the first time, first at the angry eyes of Stark, the understanding ones of Romanov - _Natasha_ \- the confused ones of Banner and Brunnhilde, and finally, Thor. There was so much hope shining in his eye, candle light glinting off the patch.

“It’s true.” He managed to whisper. The words seemed to echo around the silent room; perhaps that was just the ringing in his ears.

Stark threw his metal cup onto the ground in anger. “Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. He’s playing us into thinking he’s Pinocchio who’s grown a conscience. It doesn’t fucking work like that!”

“I am not saying I am a good person,” Loki spat. “I attempted to kill the Jotuns and if Thor had not stopped me their planet would have been wiped from existence. I am a kinslayer, a liesmith, an _argr._ ” He glanced at Natasha. “A monster, a Jotun, and a damn _fool_. But I swear. I _swear_ on my own life and on my magic that those actions - that attack - those were not my own.”

Silence, again. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Natasha whispered.

“Why would you believe me?”

Stark sighs. “I guess that explains why you’ve been avoiding Vision. He’s noticed, and offended, by the way.”

Loki shuddered. “That stone should not be on Midgard, never mind embedded in a sentient being.”

“He was able to pick up Mjolnir. I trust him.”

Loki laughed. “Oh, you fools. You trust him, but what if the Titan comes back to hunt down what he believes is his?”

“And will he?”

Loki shrugged. “I know not. He only told me what was important for me to know. No more. No less.”

“Why did he do it?” Natasha asked. “And how?”

Loki shuffled uneasily. “I… Has Thor told you of the events in New Mexico? And what occurred afterwards?”

“Little bits. I only really know what was in the file for the event. Thor just said he thought you were dead.”

“I wish I had been, for all that followed,” he muttered earnestly. “I was set adrift in _ginnungagap_ \- the Void, endless and eternal. Complete silence, with only your heart in your ears. Darkness, except for faraway stars. Nothing, except the cold and nothing of space. I am Jotun; I can survive the cold. But can anyone survive their own mind?”

“Asgard did that to you?” Banner asked, horrified and sobering up fast.

“No,” Loki said, feeling a flush creep upwards again. “I did it to myself. I didn’t think I would survive.”

“A suicide mission,” Natasha murmured.

“Yes. On Asgard, to take one’s own life… Even if you fail, you are still a dead man walking. I would therefore succeed in my objective either way.”

Was he a dead man walking? Loki didn’t know. It wasn’t so much that he was a dead man, but that a man had died, and he had emerged from the corpse, like when Odin slew Ymir so that life could be born anew. To be and to become something else was not so much a line to be crossed, but a thread woven into a greater tapestry.

Brunnhilde downed her drink. “This is so fucking weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki refers to Thor as brother in Thor: Ragnarok, so we've basically ignored that as a point of contention.
> 
> Nyrlif - Literally "New Life". Lif was also the first man after Ragnarok, representing "the cyclic nature of Eddic [views on the end of the world]". 
> 
> Huginngard & Muninngard - Odin's ravens were Huginn ("thought") and Muninn ("mind"), and "gard" means enclosed space, or literally "inside the fence".
> 
> Akrlengd - a unit of distance, roughly that of a field or acre of land.
> 
> The ideas of "persuading" as magic is essentially the thoughts of Norse shaman at the time. Additionally, Loki also mentions "telling a story so perfect the universe believes it" in Loki: Agent of Asgard, as a way of explaining magic.
> 
> The bowls of water to clean - this was (probably) the common way for Norse people to bathe daily without actually filling a bath. They would bathe with a bath around once a week, which was still a lot more than most at the time. The soap and knife thing we just made up.
> 
> Friggahof - Frigga "hall"/"space". Hof is also associated with the heathen temple spaces used for worship.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and don't forget to leave us a comment and kudos if you enjoyed!


	2. Interim to Fall

“There’s not many who can sneak up on me,” Loki said bemusedly, before turning around, his back to the clearing where he had been observing Barton and Natasha teaching a handful of Aesir hunting skills from a distance. “And you are not one.”

The Captain shrugged from where he stood in the tree line, sunlight catching over his shoulders and hair to give him a Thor-like halo. “I figured so long as I could sneak close to the settlement, the rest wouldn’t be a problem.”

Loki laughed. “It’s hardly difficult to enter. We don’t have a sentry, or any formalised militia,” he pointed out. “I would say it’s good to see you again, but your petty Avengers have caused nothing but trouble.”

“I’m not in the Avengers. I’ve taken an extended leave.”

Interesting. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve heard things about you. Can we walk and talk?”

Loki gestured. “Lead the way.”

The captain lead him deeper into the forest, away from Nyrlif.

After a minute of walking in silence, he finally spoke. “Is it true you can heal people with magic?”

Loki’s pace faltered for a second. By the Norns, did _everyone_ know? He wasn’t going to have any more tricks to pull, soon. “Careful what you speak of, Captain.”

He frowned, confused. “But can you?”

“Perhaps. It depends on the healing needing done.” The captain shifted - minute, uncomfortable. “Do the Avengers know you’re here?” Loki asked.

“No,” he said, “and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell them.”

Loki stopped walking and bowed, hand over his chest. “On my honour.”

He barked a laugh. “You have honour?”

“Not much,” Loki admitted with a smirk, continuing along their chosen path, “but enough for you, Steven Rogers. So tell me, why have you come here?”

He sighed. “My best friend, Bucky. He’s been... conditioned.”

“Brainwashed.”

“More or less. He’s in cryogenic sleep - sort of like a coma - and he won’t come out again till he can be fixed. But we don’t know how to fix him.”

Loki hummed thoughtfully. “And your medicine can’t help him.”

“We’ve come so far, but we still know next to nothing about the brain.”

Loki nodded. “The brain is the most complex organ of all. Repairs must be delicate and careful. One wrong move and the person is lost, even if the body carries on.”

“You’ve done this before, then?” He looked hopeful. It was sickening.

 “Dabbled in it,” Loki waved his hand, dismissive. “It’s not easy for a man - never mind the Prince of Asgard - to practice.”

“I would’ve thought a prince could do what he liked.”

“The leaders of the land set the examples,” Loki said, picking up a stone from the ground and flipped it in his hands. “I didn’t set a very good one.”

The captain smiled. “Yeah, I get what you mean. So you’ll do it?”

“What’s my reward?”

“I don’t set the Avengers on you.”

Loki laughed. “You’ve been away far too long, wayward warrior. The Avengers tolerate me. But not, I sense, you. Here’s a tip, Rogers,” he stopped again and crowded the other man into a tree, “do not attempt to lie to the Liesmith.”

Loki took a step back, keeping his smirk and eyes on the captain, who stared blankly back. It wasn’t a good poker face; Loki could see the stress in the bags under his angry eyes and the unkempt stubble on his face. The mortal was wearing himself thin.

“Alright,” he finally said. “I don’t know what I can give you. I don’t have anything you want.”

Loki considered him for a second. “Are you trained in leadership?”

“Yes.”

“And strategy? Management?”

“Some. SHIELD was training me in it for a while before... well, everything happened.”

“Then I propose,” Loki said, slowly, “that you and Valkyrie create a militia. She will deal with the combat training whilst you do the rest - morale, instilling of discipline, logistical matters.” He paused. “Oh, you are literate, are you not?”

“Yes,” he replied, bizarrely offended.

“Good. And well-read?”

“I used to read a lot. I got sick often.”

Loki nodded and smiled. “Then that is the bargain. You shall stay here as long as you are needed - until an Asgardian is free to take up your position. I will make my best attempt to heal your friend.”

The Captain stood, looking weary. “Deal.”

“‘‘Twas a pleasure doing business with you, Captain,” Loki said. The Captain offered his hand and Loki took the wrist instead, curling his fingers around it. “Deal.”

“So… When?”

“I am currently building a place of magic that will aid me, so whenever that is finished.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the greatest mages, ever?”

Loki grinned. “I appreciate the faith, but times have rather changed. I am not without power, but I am not with what I had.” Loki flipped the stone over in his hand again as green magic twisted around it, then sunk through its pores, and handed it over. “When this glows, it is time. And when the time comes, meet me here by lake Semerwater.”

Rogers took the stone, feeling it over, before putting it in a pocket closing it tight. “Thank you, Loki.” He turned to go.

“Oh, and Rogers?” Rogers turned back to face him, eyebrow raised. “If you try to lie to me again, you will regret it.”

Rogers sent him a snarky salute. “Understood.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hey, Loki. Need your oh-so-graceful magic assistance.”

Loki ignored Brunnhilde in favour of helping a group lift a section of wood paneling for Friggahof, before turning to face her. She was tapping her foot in annoyance, holding the arm of an young woman who in turn was gripping a young girl’s hand, who would not have been much older than a 10-year-old human girl. The woman was glancing about worriedly, as though she was going to dart away the moment Brunnhilde released her arm.

His retort was caught in his throat when he saw the nervous look on the mother features. “What is it you need?”

Brunnhilde nudged the mother and nodded: _go on_. The mother bit her lip, and in one fell swoop, said, “it’s my daughter.”

Loki dusted off his hands and faced them properly. “What about her?”

“I think she may have magic in her.”

“Oh,” Loki said. He looked between the two women. “Why have you brought her to me?”

“You’re constantly saying you’re one of the best _seiðrmenn_ , aren’t you?” Brunnhilde said impatiently.

“Well, yes,” he said. “I-- what do you want me to do?”

“Her magic keeps lashing out,” the mother said. “She can’t control it.”

Loki nodded, thinking. He was like that, too, when he was younger, though he was quickly taught to control it by Frigga. Only two other _seiðr_ users had shown their face thus far, and both were busy with hunting duties. “I’m sorry, what are your names?” Loki asked.

“I’m Eir Akidottir,” she said. “This is Ylva Geirdottir.”

Loki knelt down to Ylva. She hid her face in her mother’s skirts, embarrassed and bashful. “Can you show me this magic, Ylva?” he asked softly.

Ylva looked up to her mother, who gave her a small nod and a reassuring smile. The child held her palm out, for a moment there were only small sparks and then a wild burst of flame shot from her hand. Without thinking, Loki hastily forced it away, creating a force field in front of the  frame of Friggahof.

“Has she ever created objects? Shapeshifted? Healed?”

Eir nodded. “She can shift into a mouse. And she has made great spikes of ice before.”

“Ice is elemental, same as fire,” Loki dismissed. How fitting, though, that the animal should be a mouse, for such a timid girl. His first form was that of a snake, and he had only crafted a few other forms - it took so much effort to craft more after the first few. “What about healing?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” Eir said.

“Interesting.” Loki again addressed the girl. “Can you heal?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

Loki wasn’t about to injure himself to test the theory, so he instead stood and did a low bow. “I am Loki. I would be honoured to guide you. Meet me by the edge of the lake every other day at dawn, starting tomorrow.”

Eir stifled a happy gasp. “Thank you, your highness, thank you!” She grabbed his hand and bowed deeply.

“It is no problem,” he said, removing himself from her grasp, slightly bewildered.

Brunnhilde was smiling widely. “Go on, now,” she said to the two. “Fare thee well.”

“Fare thee well,” Eir returned, before pulling Ylva away with her.

Loki watched them go. Brunnhilde took a step so she was shoulder to shoulder with him. “I wasn’t sure you’d do it.”

“The child needs teaching. Who else would?”

“But still, you didn’t have to. Thank you.”

Loki turned to look at her. “What are _you_ thanking me for?”

“I don’t know, being a good person, I guess.” She frowned. “You have been around kids before, right?”

Loki laughed, feeling a sharp twist of pain. “Yes, do not fear on that regard.”

“When? I mean, you were the last kid to come out of the royal palaces, and you didn’t even actually come out of them. Thor’s not had any kids.”

Loki shrugged. He wasn’t ready to talk about his family - not here, not now. “Here and there. I have had a life outside of Asgard, you know.”

Brunnhilde stared at him for a few moments, and Loki hoped she wasn’t going to press further. Luckily, she didn’t, and instead shrugged and gave him a hard slap on the shoulder. “Good luck, then.” She walked away.

“Hey, Loki!” Loki sighed at Korg’s voice and spun back around to face him.

“Can you lower the forcefield here? We, uh--” Korg rapped his fist, at each touch the air rippled blue around his hand. “We’re a bit trapped. Unless that’s what you were tryna do, in that case, carry on.”

Loki considered leaving them there for a solid few moments.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Loki arrived at the shore of Lake Semerwater just as the sun was breaking over the dewy ground. It wouldn’t be wet for long, however - summer was diffusing into the air now, the daytime temperature rising above that on Asgard.

Ylva and Eir were sitting on a log, watching the lake. Loki paused to take in the scene. The glassy reflection of a pink sky, the waves lapping quietly over smooth rocks. A mother and a daughter, eternally.

Eir turned around and stood up sharply as soon as she spotted him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t,” he said, firmly. “You need not be here. Ylva will focus better without external influences.”

Eir looked worried for a moment, looking in between him and Ylva. “Ylva, daughter, is this alright?”

Ylva looked with wide eyes. Loki wasn’t sure that she would agree, but she finally nodded. Eir sighed and kissed her child on the forehead. “I will be at the tent,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

Ylva nodded and smiled reassuringly, though she was quite clearly petrified. As Eir made her exit, Loki walked over to the edge of the lake. Ylva slowly joined him.

“What you must first understand,” Loki said, slowly, “is that everything is connected. Everything has a way that it is, a way that it will be. When you do your magic, what are you changing?”

She shrugged.

“Think,” he pressed.

She swallowed. “I am changing what it will be.”

He broke out into a grin. “Good. Now, some on Midgard believe that creation is a one and done thing. The Big Bang,” he said with distaste. “But it isn’t.”

He turned to face the girl, who was looking up at him with big eyes. “You are a creator, too. Things have been made, yes, but that is not the end of fates. And that is the foundation of what I will teach you. Through the three pillars - to know, to understand, and to will it to happen.”

Ylva nodded, but Loki could tell he was losing her.

“What you do is will it to happen,” he explained. “That is why is it so uncontrollable. Why it happens with no pattern, with no rationale. What is the difference between knowing and understanding?”

She shuffled her feet. “Knowing something is like facts and being smart. Understanding is like… it’s like when you know why.”

He nodded, smiling encouragingly. “Exactly. Have you been told this before?”

“No. I only started doing this cause home got destroyed.”

“It has been a trying time,” Loki agreed, looking out over the lake again. “Can you try and lift the water?”

She lifted her hand outwards as a frown crumpled her face. Loki lowered her arm.

“No need for gestures. They are a crutch and give your move away to the enemy. It is better you learn this now.”

Ylva bit her lip and tried again, this time with her fists clenched at her side. Slowly, sparks of magic were fluttering above the disturbed surface, before a whirlpool began to simmer upwards. It didn’t get far, only the height of the girl herself, before crashing downwards with a splash.

She let out a gasp of exertion and looked up to Loki. Seeking approval, he realised. “Good, but not enough. You are more powerful than that. Why does the water lift?”

“Because I want it to.”

“Yes, but many people want things, and that does not cause them to be.”

“They aren’t magic.”

“ _Seiðr,_ ” he corrected mildly. “Think. What are you making the water do?”

“Lift,” she said, confused.

“But water doesn’t lift by itself, does it? What did I say before?”

She thought on it for a moment. “I am making it change its fate.”

“And the truth is, Ylva, you cannot make anyone do anything. You can only suggest it - give it a good reason. Persuasion. There is a reason _seiðr_ is seen as sneaky and cowardly, and yet powerful all at once. So,” he said, “why don’t you give the water an argument worth listening to?”

Ylva nodded and turned again to the lake. Loki watched with a confusing sense of pride when the water whirlpooled up, hesitated for a moment, and then carried on upwards, up to about the height of Loki himself.

“Hold it there,” he whispered, crouching down. “Hold it.”

She nodded, straining, her hand coming up as she lost herself to the spell. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

Loki picked up a pebble and threw it into the whirlpool. It immediately crashed back down into the lake.

“Why did the pebble make you stop?”

Ylva looked terrified for a moment, and slumped down onto the ground. “I don’t know. I was trying really hard.”

“You were,” Loki assured her, sitting cross legged, “but the pebble changed the water’s fate yet again because you couldn’t account for it. When you master your powers more, you will be able to instinctively protect your charms against other happenings, but for now, you must think.”

“I can’t think of everything at once,” she argued petulantly.

“No,” he agreed. “But eventually, you won’t have to. Now, try again.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki heard a bottle smashing in the distance and quickened his pace, annoyed at himself for being fearful for Brunnhilde's’ health.

He saw broken shards of glass covering the ground a few feet from Brunnhilde’s hut, the sunlight glinting off them and smelling strongly in the sun. He looked around - he was _not_ worried.

“Aren’t you too hot in that?”

Loki took a few steps back, glass cracking beneath his boots, and looked up to see her lying on the top of her hut in a Midgardian bathing suit. He looked down at his own day armour. “I am fine. Unless you want me to remove my clothes.” He smirked suavely at her and dodged the bottle that came flying at his head.

“You’ve spent far too much time with Stark.”

Having spent most of the morning meditating with Ylva to teach her how important it was, teleporting to the roof to join Brunnhilde was childsplay. “Why, praytell, are you making a mess of your own land?”

“Bored.”

“Well, don’t come crying to me to heal glass in your feet.”

“I bet you’d like that. Men usually do. Could you at least cool that down?” She dropped back onto her chair and pointed at the box beside the chair, it was full of bottles and watery ice.

Loki rolled his eyes but touched it, reaching for his ice abilities. For a moment he could feel his true form rolling across his hands and he snapped his hand away in panic. He shoved them both behind his back before Brunnhilde could see the shaking. That didn’t usually happen - it didn’t usually happen at all. He wondered if the charm Odin placed so long ago was finally beginning to slip.

She glanced over and frowned. “I thought you were a Jotun. Jotuns have ice magic, don’t they?”

“Jotnar,” he corrected idly. “Perhaps I just realised I was being a fool by doing as you demanded,” he lied easily. He waved one hand, relieved to see pale skin rather than blue, and sat down on the hot shingles. “What are you even doing up here?”

“Sunbathing. Midgardians are so clever. Coming up with a legitimate reason to do nothing but lie in the sun.” She glanced over to him and handed him a beer - luckily, it was unopened, so couldn’t have been subjected to her pursuits in adding spirits to just about anything. “How’s the child doing?”

Loki took a sip of his beer - which tasted disgusting regardless - before answering. He’d been teaching her for a few weeks now, and she was starting to grow on him. It did make him wonder if his own children would’ve followed in his footsteps, or followed more Sigyn’s. “She is very talented. Listens to me well. Probably more than I listened to Frigga, when I was young.”

“You’re not her mother,” Brunnhilde pointed out.

Loki just smirked into his bottle. “No, if I was, I would not let her wear that disgusting maroon cape her mother does.”

“You’re good with her,” she admitted. “Better than I expected.”

Loki turned to her, surprised. “It was _you_ , watching us.”

“Spying.” Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Stark made me.”

“He _made_ you? Where is the Brunnhilde I have grown to know and… tolerate?”

She laughed, and Loki knew that she knew it was an understatement. “Mm. He threatened to take my alcohol. I’ve started brewing my own, but it won’t be ready for another few weeks yet.”

“Why did he not spy on us himself?”

“Something about his time was too important and thinking the child could be in danger.”

Anger grew in the pit of his stomach. “I would never harm a child.”

“I told him just as much. He just said that you’d probably killed children before, and I said that _he’d_ probably killed children before, and then he stalked off rubbing his pa--”

“--pathetic little beard--” Loki finished with a sharp laugh.

She grinned too. “I wasn’t worried about that, anyways. When teaching her, you remind me of my own father.”

“Please tell me you never flirted this much with your father.”

Brunnhilde snorted. “When I told him I wanted to join the Valkyries, he didn’t laugh or tell me not to. Instead he bought a sword and said that if he was to pass anything down to his child, it might as well be the noble art of self defence.”

Loki was silent for a while, mulling that over. Recently, the loss of his children had seemed more acute than it had in years - the people of Asgard were banding together in close units, and Loki, it felt, was on the outside, without any blood kin or network of friends. He missed having Sigyn by his side, his children in his arms, and his worried family back home. In hindsight, of course, it was fractured and a lie, but he had still never felt more at peace than in those few years.

“Gold for your thoughts,” said Brunnhilde.

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re thinking about something.”

Loki sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “There aren’t many on Asgard who know this, but I too once had children.”

Brunnhilde choked on her drink and Loki leaned over to pat her back. “You _what_?”

“Had children,” Loki said.

“Is this as in hypothetical, or--” At Loki’s look, she took another drink. “ _Fuuuuuck_ , that explains a lot. Why did you never mention them before?”

Loki shrugged. “I never felt the need.”

Brunnhilde sat up straighter. “Do you know where they are?”

“No.”

“Are they bastards?”

“Yes,” he said, “but that is not why I don’t know where they are, or even if they’re alive.”

“You’re awfully blasé about this.”

“What else am I supposed to be?”

“Angry. Sad. Something.”

Loki sighed and threw his bottle onto the ground. It was rather delightful - Loki had always been able to appreciate a bit of chaos. “I am angry. All the time, at every moment, but I will not break. It is what Thor wants. I know he’s waiting for the moment that I betray him,” Loki said bitterly.

“You did bring that upon yourself. It seems that you always have.”

“Ah, yes, but Odin brought it upon me.”

“That’s not an excuse, Loki.”

Loki threw his hands up. “Then what else am I supposed to say? That I was angry and had lost my place in the world? That I lashed out? ‘Twas only by Odin’s doing that I had the means to do so! I am a brutish monster like all others on Jotunheim and I should have been left there. I cannot help myself - chaos and destruction and _pain_ follow me, wherever I--”

He was interrupted rather abruptly by Brunnhilde literally shoving a small dagger into his thigh.

“What was that for!?” He looked up at her. “Where were you even hiding that!?”

“Loki, you were not _made_ , you are _making yourself._ So make yourself into a better person.” He saw the unhidden anger in her eyes. He was glad he was never on the other side of her in battle; what she lacked in stature she made up for in battle-strung rage.

Loki extracted the dagger with a wince and threw it onto ground with a loud clatter. “Did you have to stab me to make that point?”

“You were spiralling,” she said. “Just like how you were in the week before we reached Midgard. You kept on lashing out, then withdrawing. Pulling close and then pushing away. Do not let this unbalance you.”

“I’m not _unbalanced_ ,” he snarled, furious at Brunnhilde’s lack of propriety.

“I saw you use magic to throw a log at a worker the other day.”

“He was being insolent,” Loki muttered.

“No, you were being a fucking cur, Loki. You need to see your actions for what they are. _That_ is why Thor is tip-toeing around you. Because you never explain anything, but get offended when people don’t understand.”

“How could they understand? I am not even the same race as them!”

Brunnhilde groaned. “You are not the only person to experience what you have, Loki. My entire platoon was slaughtered in a single attack. Not only did I lose my life, my status, but I lost who I _was_ , my very _being_. It was loss beyond what the mind can cope with. Do you not think I mourned? Was so angry I could kill and kill and never be satisfied?”

Loki swallowed. “Of course you did.”

“Yes, and I had just as much access to the Bifrost as _you_. I could have gone on a rampage too. But I didn’t.”

“Yes, you sit here and drink and wallow,” he snapped. “Because that is _so_ much _better_.”

“At least I’m not hurting others. If you must be angry,” she said, standing up and towering over him. How she still looked threatening in what was essentially three pieces of fabric, he did not know, but he could stand to take some tips. “Do not be angry at others. They are not all the source of your misery. And the one who is - he is dead, Loki. It’s time to let him go.”

Loki’s mouth was agape. “I can’t just let it go,” he said, his voice but a mere harsh whisper.

“Why not?” He clenched his jaw and looked down. She sighed. “You will still be someone without your rage. Without being Loki of Asgard, or Jotunheim, or Odinson, Friggason, Laufeyson. Any of them. You are still you, as much as I am still me, without being a Valkyrior.”

With that, she jumped off the roof and Loki immediately heard a loud yelp. He sighed. “Did you forget about the glass?”

“None of your business!” she yelled back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What are you doing?”

Loki closed the beeswax tin and placed it back in the drawer before turning to face Stark. “None of your business.”

Stark’s eyes snapped up to his. “Was that lube?”

Loki ran through a number of possible responses, and just settled on a cheeky grin that made Stark pull a face. “Did you want something, Anthony?”

“Don’t call me by my first name, Loki.” Stark walked towards him, inspecting the table. He ran a finger across the smooth wood, then over the intricate knotting design in the middle. On it was a water basin that Loki hadn’t thrown out yet.

“What’s this bowl?”

Loki stared at Stark. “It’s for cleaning. Do you not…”

Stark stared at Loki. “What?”

“It’s for daily bathing. Hair, face?” Stark looked confused. “Norns, I knew Midgardians were akin to animals, but not--”

“Oh my God,” Stark said. “That’s why you haven’t built showers! I knew something was up! Right, add that to the shopping list, no wonder you all smell kinda weird.” He tapped the table. “But this I didn’t buy for you. Did you make it?”

“Yes.”

“Did you carve it or magic it?”

“Magic… it…”

“Y’know,” Stark waved his hands around. “Abracadabra, and all that.”

Loki gave a confused look. “I carved the table with my _seiðr_.”

“How do you do that?”

“The same way Thor wills lightening into being. By persuading it.”

“You persuaded a table into existence?” Loki smiled and shrugged: _more or less_. “They don’t call you Silvertongue for nothing.”

“Are you here for a reason, Stark, or just to compliment my tables?”

Stark casually strolled over to his window. Loki knew immediately he was trying to appear disinterested and cool. “I heard you were teaching that kid--”

“I think taking away Brunnhilde’s alcohol would cause issues for the entire settlement. Yourself included.”

Stark didn’t quite flush, but the tips of his ears went pink at the realisation he was caught. He spun around to face Loki. “Right, yeah, well, I wanted to watch now. Without spying. Thought I’d get your permission so you didn’t try to… persuade me out of existence.”

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”

“A few years ago I would have just laughed at the idea of _magic_. Even now, I barely believe it.”

“You are a scientist, are you not?”

“Yeah?”

“ _Seiðr_ is science. Just a different form.”

“I didn’t give some metal a convincing argument and oh, wouldya look at that, there’s some totally cool suits that just popped out of nowhere. I _made_ them. That’s science.”

Loki was surprised to find he didn’t mind the questions, despite the sarcasm. Stark, as annoying as he was, he was actually responsive when it came to learning. “You created them with your will and intelligence. You just used physical items to do it. When I will items such as my table, I create with metaphysical energies.”

“Do you have any books on it?” Stark asked quickly, as though he was afraid the words would offend Loki and the blow could be softened, if only it was delivered with speed.

“Most were destroyed on Asgard, but I could acquire some for you. You may struggle to understand the language. If you think I’m archaic, try Asgardian literature,” Loki said dryly. “I’ll find some on Asgardian history that are more or less correct. Some of the Midgardian myths about us are rather insulting.”

Stark grinned suddenly. “Y’know, I always wondered. Is the one about Thor dressing up as a woman and marrying a giant to get Mjölnir back true?”

Loki grinned widely at the memory. “Oh, yes. Odin was furious at me for making him _argr_.”

“Even though Thor agreed? He denied it, by the way, remind me to bring _that_ up at the most inappropriate time possible.”

“Ah, my silvertongue was known well by many people, especially Odin. But Thor,” Loki  said, smiling fondly, “for all his might, he has always been the easiest to manipulate.”

“Y’know, saying things like that doesn’t help us trust you right?” Stark lent back against the wall, crossing his arms.

Loki shrugged, casually leaning against his table, mirroring Stark. “It was always minor tricks. Fun little pranks, as I imagine you’d play on your friends, if they weren’t all so jumpy. Besides, I was under the impression you were one of the more... _intelligent_ Midgardians. You should believe you would see through any attempts at manipulations.”

“I’m smart enough to know it’s stupid to underestimate the enemy,” Stark said. His eyes widened minutely.

“The enemy?” Loki said. He broke out into a smile, as he usually did, and hoped Stark didn’t see the anger in his gaze when he pushed himself off the table. “I must meet Ylva soon. If you wish to watch do so from a distance. Your presence would be distracting to us both.”

Stark gave a short nod, knowing when he was dismissed. “Alright, well, smell ya later, or whatever.” He then left with an air of still being right, while Loki watched, his arms crossed over his chest.

Loki felt the sharp sting of embarrassment. He was a fool for thinking that things were beginning to settle down. He hadn’t expected to be accepted, but he was hoping to at least be seen as an ally, as he _was._ After angrily kicking his bedpost, he exhaled forcefully, ran his hands over his armour, and stepped out to continue Ylva’s lessons.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Good. Elbow’s too high, better. Pull it slightly further, string is too loose.” Barton walked behind the line of archers who held the bows pointed towards the target. “Usually you shouldn’t hold for so long. It could cause you to lose balance and aim, become shaky. But you guys seem to be stronger than I realised.” He chuckled a nervous edge to his laughter. “And... loose!”

They all did as ordered. A few arrows hit their targets, but a couple flew off in different directions.

“Good.” Barton said, “Naenia and Ylva swap with Asger and Freja.” He moved Ylva and Naenia to the end of the line moving to stand by them, giving them advice as they loosed their arrows. Natasha took his place, striding behind the rest, allowing Barton to spend more time with the ones that needed his attention.

Naenia hit the target and Barton patted her on the back, grinning. “Well done, kid.”

Loki walked down the hill and stood by Ylva, ignoring Barton’s glare. “You can use your _seiðr_ ,” he whispered to Ylva, “to tell the arrow to hit its target. You could even catch an arrow, if you were paying attention.”

“Though, it might blow up in your face if you’re not careful,” Barton interjected, smirking at him. “What are you doing here?” Loki ignored him to watch Ylva loose another arrow. She cheered when it hit the target - not quite a bullseye, but closer than before.

“I did it!”

“Yes, you did.” He turned around to Barton, “I am offering my apprentice some advice.”

“You’ve given it. You can leave now.”

“Don’t be mean to him!” Ylva hissed and Loki felt the air around them shift; the mortals probably couldn’t feel it, but to him, it was thrumming quietly with energy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Natasha staring alertly.

He gently placed a hand on Ylva’s shoulder. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I do not need you to fight my battles, Ylva. Barton has done nothing wrong.” The air began to settle and Loki smiled. She was very quickly gaining control of her unwilling magic, particularly in situations where others were vulnerable. Those moments seemed to be her weakness, before the training. It was surprising she didn’t have healing abilities.

“Brainwashing yourself a mini army are ya, Loki?”

“That is not within my abilities.” Loki said, walking along the line of Aesir. Barton and Natasha followed.

“I seem to remember differently.”

“That was the sceptre. Not me. I just had control of it for a time.”

“And you couldn’t use it to un-brainwash yourself? If that’s even true.”

“I could not. I may have controlled the sceptre on Midgard, but I was never the true master of it.”

Barton snorted. “Yeah, like I’d believe that. I don’t understand why the team are being all buddy-buddy with you. Don’t expect me to do the same.”

“Ah do not flatter yourself. I have no intentions to be… ‘buddy-buddy’ with you. I do however have one thing I wish to discuss with you,” Loki glanced back at the two assassins. “Both of you.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “what?”

“A militia.”

“What for? Or is this another world-domination plan?”

“As good as we are, I do not think 200 Asgardians could take over a planet when most of them do not even know how to use a bow,” he said dryly. “No. The people need it for morale. It would make them feel better to have an organised military group, even a small one. Plus, should anyone want to wipe out the last of the Aesir, I would rather we weren’t sitting ducks.”

The two stared a him for a moment, considering. “And who’s going to lead the militia?” Natasha asked. “You?”

“No. I have another in mind for that,” he said secretively. “But it will have to wait. For now, I request you begin to teach hand to hand combat to those that are willing. Of course, I will speak to a few others to do this alongside you.”

Barton didn’t look happy at the idea, but Natasha was more amicable. “If it’s what Thor wants, then we can help.”

Loki pushed down the anger bubbling in his chest. “I will not stop you if you wish to confirm it with him.” They had paced up and down the line, and were back where they started. He placed a hand on Ylva’s shoulder to make her turn around. “I will see you tomorrow, apprentice.” he said with a low bow. And with that, he left.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I’m beginning to think you’re trying to turn me into a drinker.” Loki said as he sauntered up to Lake Semerwater.

Brunnhilde sat at the edge of the lake stretching her legs out, waves lapping onto the shore a few feet ahead. She had an icebox full of beers beside her and a few different bottles laid out around her.

“Best way to take a lunch break, don’t you think?” She took one of the bottles full of a strange orange liquid and poured it into a tankard.

“I don’t think it would be best to continue construction after lunch whilst inebriated.” Loki sat down beside her, crossing his legs closer to his body to and accepted the tankard, sniffing at the orange liquid warily. “What is it?”

“It’s called… sex on the beach.”

“Ah, that is why you wanted to met here.” He dug his heels into the rocks and looked to her, eyes wide and innocent.

Brunnhilde laughed. “Well, I would, but I think the lake is a little too exhibitionalist for me.”

Loki sipped at his drink to hide his smile - it wasn’t as bad as he was expecting. Very sweet. He wouldn’t usually indulge in his craving for sweet items, but he was finding it harder to resist on Midgard, so full of chocolate and sugary treats.

“I have not seen you with your companion for a while.”

“I haven’t seen you with anybody.” Brunnhilde commented mildly.

“Ah yes, out of my huge choice of people. All those Asgardians who still fear me, either as a Jotun, or as their Prince.”

“What about one of the Recenders?”

He grimaced. “Who do you suggest? _Stark_ seems to have a fondness for me.”

“I’m flattered Loki, but I’ve got a girlfriend.”

Stark’s filtered voice came from above, and they both glanced up to see the Iron Man suit gently lowering itself on the ground a few feet away. “Come to spy on us?” Loki sneered.

“No, actually, not everything is about you. I was patrolling. Well, more making a route for a suit or two to patrol,” he said as he flipped the visor up.

“Don’t bother, Stark, there will be no need soon enough.”

“That was ominous,” Stark said. The suit began to condense and peel away from his skin, revealing far less threatening jeans and hoodie combo. “What are you drinking?”

Loki sniffed. “Sex on the beach.”

Stark swaggered over and lifted one of the bottles up. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a rude word before.”

“He’s called me a whore before,” Brunnhilde said, “and a quim.”

“I didn’t know you got this in bottles,” Stark murmured. “I always thought you had to mix it yourself. Didn’t you call Natasha a quim?”

“A _mewling_ quim,” Loki corrected. “I stand by it.”

Stark peered around the ground, looking for glasses, and then took a swig right out of the bottle when he saw none. “Tastes good,” he said, plonking himself on the ground nearby. “Shouldn’t you be all uptight about sex?”

“I wish he’d hold his tongue more, to be honest,” Brunnhilde said.

“Oh, but you love my tongue for it.”

Stark looked between them. “Was that flirting? Did I just— what the fuck?”

Loki gave him a sly look over the top of his drink, licking his lips and glancing down to his lips, then crotch. “Feeling left out? I’m sure I can... fit you in _somewhere_ , Anthony.”

Stark laughed, and Brunnhilde joined in. “Oh, no, Loki, don’t you find your schedule rather packed by short and fast visitors?”

“Actually, my visitors tend to stay for far lengthier interludes. I prefer it that way. It gives you the opportunity to really get a piece of them, rather than just a simple taste.”

“See, that’s all well and good, but doesn’t your doorway find itself rubbed raw from all the guests entering through it?”

“My doorways? Nay, I find using my own sturdier wood quite resolves the issue.”

Stark was howling with laughter by that point. Loki and Brunnhilde shared an amused glance. “Holy shit,” Stark said breathily. “You guys are way more fun than Thor.”

Loki felt a jealous pride rise up inside of him. How pathetic, using a Midgardian’s approval as a base for anything at all. Still, he chuckled too and offered Stark a conjured glass.

“For your drink,” he said. “So you don’t poison the well.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Are all Asgardians like you, or have I just been unlucky?”

“Norns, if they had been, I wouldn’t have left,” Brunnhilde said. “So boring and proper. Sakaar was the perfect society. Grandmaster had a ship just for orgies, and _everyone_ knew it. Could you imagine if Thor attempted to have a harem? Odin would rise from Valhalla just to slap him.”

“To be fair, Thor did have multiple women in his roster most of the time before his aborted coronation,” Loki said. “It just wasn’t a harem.”

“Thor was a playboy? I thought I was _the_ playboy. The alpha playboy, if you will.”

Brunnhilde snorted. “I assure you that whatever you could summon up would be nothing compared to that of the House of Odin. Girls were practically lining up to sleep with the princes or the Warriors Three. Bearing in mind, when they were thirteen or younger. It was the ultimate prize,” she said, faux-loftily.

Stark broke out into a grin. “Seriously? I never thought I’d be saying this, but good on you, Loki.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” Loki replies dryly. “I was probably least popular among Thor and the Warriors Three. Though I did have one thing they didn’t.”

“Yeah? What was that?”

“I spent my time on campaigns around men who hadn’t seen an available woman for weeks,” Loki said, “and I had a reputation for being effeminate, and one that Odin himself fostered.”

“You being called gay by your dad helped you get laid?” Stark asked.

“Essentially.”

“Does Thor know?”

“That Odin ‘called me gay’?”

“No, that you slept with guys.”

“I’m sure he got the gist of it. It wasn’t a sin or a slur against your personality if you weren’t the… receptive partner,” Loki said, a little uncomfortable now. “Thor probably filled in the gaps as he pleased.”

“I’m not sure why being the receptive one is so bad,” Brunnhilde said. “They’ll chase you for something they hate you for. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

“Good to know slut shaming exists in Asgardian culture too,” Stark muttered. They were all silent for a while, and Loki reflected on the time when things were so much easier, when the constant vying for Odin’s attention was intercut with his own seemingly unstoppable ability to find men and women to sleep with, despite being the least favourable. It was an art he had down to a science, really.

Stark breathed in like he was going to ask a question, and though that little gap should’ve been enough time to actually think through what he was saying, he still blurted out, “so _were_ you the receptive partner?”

Loki stared at him until he looked away and nodded with his lips pressed together, as though Loki had answered the question anyway.

“Ah,” Brunnhilde said, smirking deviously. Oh no. “I’m sure he would be for the right partner, Stark. Are you still wanting to see where he could fit you in?”

Loki, instead of being offended, just turned to look at Stark with an eyebrow raised. Stark looked between the two of them. “You two are always in on a joke, aren’t you? I can never figure out what it is.”

“The joke is you, Stark,” she said nonchalantly.

“Oh, not all the time,” Loki said. “Sometimes it’s Thor.”

“Should I be offended or glad to be compared to Thor?”

Brunnhilde and Loki shared a look. “We’ll let you decide that... Stank.”

Stark groaned, “Rhodey told you about that?”

“Rhodey told _everybody_ about that.” Another voice joined them, they all looked around to see Bruce walking towards them. “Room for a small one?”

“I don’t say this often, but drink what you want.” Brunnhilde passed him a beer bottle.

Bruce shook his head. “Thanks, but hangovers feel way too much like waking up after hulking out.”

“So,” said Stark. “What brings you to the magnificent shores of Lake Semerwater?”

Banner sat down next to them, looking odd in his suit. All four of them probably looked like a strange mix; Loki in his day armour, Brunnhilde in leather trousers and a loose linen shirt, Stark in jeans, and Banner in ruffled semi formal wear. With the iron man suit a silent guardian a few feet away.

“Those Asgardian builders are pissing me off. They don’t know anything,” Banner complained. “I mean, I’m not even an engineer, and I know more than them.”

“None of them are builders. They’re blacksmiths and tanners and tailors. Asgard doesn’t have many builders; we don’t need them.”

“Why not?” asked Banner.

“Odin would usually just employ dwarves to do the job. We had _some,_ but not enough to build something like Nyrlif.”

“Odin was responsible for building stuff? Even houses?” Stark said.

“Yes. It was his duty - and Thor’s - to see to the well-being of the people, in all facets,” said Brunnhilde.

“Hence why Thor is struggling,” Loki added. “It’s a big job, which Odin was supposed to be alive to oversee in its early years. Thor barely knew that that going in, because he never attended any council meetings.”

“And you did?”

Loki looked down at his drink, considering his answer. “That was to be my job. Thor’s right hand man. His humble advisor,” he said, chuckling darkly. “And a way to unite the Jotnar and the Asgardians.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure.” Stark downed his drink.

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t grow up knowing the dark underside of my inheritance.” Brunnhilde gave Loki a stare and held it: _stop spiralling._ After a moment, Loki turned back to the other two, who were looking confused. “My apologies. I shouldn’t go on about it. It is in the past.”

“That’s very Zen of you,” Stark said.

“Was that some sort of telepathy?” Banner asked, looking between them, looking confused but not awfully surprised.

“That is not one of my abilities. At least, it’s not that easy.” Loki had thought about expanding his abilities, but it hadn’t seemed worth it. Hypnosis, yes, but not live, two-way conversations. Generally, those were best practiced between two _seiðr_ users, and the only other ones he knew were his mother, father, and a tutor, who he generally didn’t find a need so speak to silently. He had attempted to do it with Thor, but all Thor could pick up was the vague intent of Loki’s words, no the words themselves.

“What actually can you do?” Stark reached for another drink.

“Trying to find out my weaknesses?” Loki said coldly.

“We know the most important weakness.” Tony smirked and pointed at Bruce, who just ducked his head and looked embarrassed. “But no, really. What can you do? Can you shapeshift?”

“Some, but only with forms that are me.”

Banner looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. “What does that even mean?”

“I probably cannot shift into a form such as a dog because that is not _me_. There are some forms that work better for me than others.”

“What about a woman? Please tell me you can shift into a woman.” Stark grinned, as if telling a witty joke.

“Stark, you’re disgusting,” said Brunnhilde.

“Born and bred, baby.” Brunnhilde wrinkled her nose. “You didn’t answer the question, though.”

“I can.”

“So...Loka? Lokiya? Loklynn?”

Loki rolled his eyes, “still Loki.”

“I’ve always wondered. How does it feel?”

“Keep talking, Stark, and I’ll let you know what it’s like to be bereft of your testicles.”

“Ooh, castration threat, I like it. See, _that’s_ scary, because I actually believe you’d do it. Much better than threats against the earth.”

Banner pushed his spectacles up his nose. “When you shift, does it actually change your DNA? This is so crazy. It’s impossible.”

“I’m not aware of ‘DNA’,” he said, “but it changes everything about me. I feel like the animal or human.”

“Like, in your head too?”

“Slightly. Blood becomes more enticing as a wolf, and the sky more inviting as a raven. Any form I am in, they are all different.”

“Have you ever been tempted to stay in one form?” Banner asked. Ah, Loki thought. The beast within Banner.

“I have in the past, for very long periods of time, but I’ve always reverted back. Obviously.”

“How long are we talking?”

“I was in my female form for something like a decade, once. That is probably the longest.” He pointedly ignored Brunnhilde’s piercing gaze. He wondered if she had made the connection.

“Didn’t Odin mind?”

“He didn’t know,” Loki said simply. “I just… disappeared. Sent word often, of course, but I never told them where I was.”

Stark shook his head. “Doesn’t that get confusing? Being a woman for a long time, then a guy? I’d have a serious identity crisis.”

Loki shrugged. “The first time, I did to see if I could. Then I found that it felt as normal as being male felt. It is not so much a different identity, but a complimenting part to my existing one.”

He wasn’t sure why he was admitting to this now, especially to _Stark and Banner_ of all people. He blamed the drink, but in reality, it felt nice to finally talk about this without his so-called friends and family dissecting every word he said.

“ _Argr_.” Tony murmured. Loki lifted an eyebrow, daring Stark to make jests or belittle him. “Sorry. I just got it. Not that I’m judging you or anything.” He held up his hands in the universe symbol of good will and surrender.

“You both seem surprised and yet… not as disgusted by this as most would.”

Stark shrugged, “I don’t swing that way, well except once in college - but that was college so it doesn’t count. But why should I care who sleeps with who unless I want to sleep with them?” He looked around at the group as if waiting for somebody to disagree.

“How would the general Asgardian population feel about people being gay?” Bruce asked, directing the question to Brunnhilde.

“Depends. Some wanted them slane, others didn’t care. _Seiðrmenn_ are usually feared and mocked simultaneously. Men who are effeminate with no power are just mocked.”

“What about masculine women?”

Brunnhilde considered the question for a moment. “That is more complex. A woman who goes against her predetermined roles - that is to say, mother or general housekeep - would be mocked, but a woman who can fight, whilst unusual, is still fulfilling one of the most important societal values of Asgard. Therefore, you find yourself in the same position as male _seiðr_ users.”

Stark stared at her. “Societal values is not a phrase I’d expect to ever come out of your mouth.”

“I was a general,” she reminded him. “You don’t just wander into a position like that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki carved the final rune onto the wall of Friggahof. After three months of on and off construction, it was finally complete.

Brunnhilde looked around, smiling slightly. “You’ve done a good job here, Loki.”

He gave her a sharp smile. “I know.”

“Drinks tonight?” she asked hopefully. “My own mead should be ready.”

“Drinks tonight,” he confirmed.

“Do you mind if another joins? I would enjoy tasting his new mead.” Thor said from where he lent against a wall, arms crossed.

Loki glanced around, biting back a sigh. He had _fought_ Thor for this to be made, and now he wanted to celebrate its completion? And yet… he didn’t want another argument. He was tired of them. And drinks with Thor could - maybe - be nice, so long as he didn’t get rowdy.

Brunnhilde was looking at Loki, waiting for his answer. “You may,” he said slowly, “providing Brunnhilde doesn't mind sharing her drinks.”

“I always mind, but I suppose for the king I can make an exception. _Once_.” She gave him an over exaggerated bow with a little flourish of her hands.

Thor chuckled. “Thank you, kind citizen.”

“Will your Descenders being joining us?”

“They are away on business for a few days, but should be back soon. Shall we?” Thor gestured to the door.

Loki gave a quick glance around the _hof_. He had fought for this building and won. He had designed it, every intricate detail, and it was _his_. It felt homely, with various runes and symbols carved into each wall, centered by a few beds spread around the room for the injured and sickly. High windows let in light along with stone braziers spread around the room; Stark had offered to implement artificial light, but Loki had declined.

However, they did have plans to create a Soul Force - or, as Stark insisted on calling it, a quantum field generator. Stark was certain he could build it with enough information on Asgard healing technology and techniques.

A few hours later, they reconvened in Friggahof, where they decided to christen it with celebration. Brunnhilde had brought two kegs of her homemade brew, whilst Thor carried half a roasted hog for them to feast on. Loki himself carried a honey mustard sauce for dipping, plates, and a loaf of freshly made bread from the bakery which had been finished not too long before.

They set everything down on the mat in the centre of the room, and sat cross legged on the ground. Loki distributed out the plates whilst Thor begun to hack away at the hog. Brunnhilde grabbed his knives off him with a disgruntled “stop butchering it, oaf.”

Meanwhile, Loki lit the braziers for warmth and light as the sun set outside. The room, when filled with food smells and life, felt calm and safe. Loki knew he’d be spending a lot of time here in the future.

Thor lifted a glass once they were all feeling merry. “I know, I was not the most supportive in the construction of this building, but you did well, Loki. Well done.”

Loki let himself smile, his rare genuine smile a swell of pride welling up in him. “Thank you, brother.”

“I do wish the Warriors Three could be here, though,” Thor said wistfully. “I know their souls will rest in Valhalla, but I do miss them terribly.”

“I’m afraid I cannot repeat the sentiment.”

Brunnhilde whacked Loki on the arm. “Stop being difficult. Besides, I know you liked Sif. Thor told me that story of the time you wanted to ask her to dance but chickened out, saying that she was probably too busy drinking wine to dance with you.”

“When do you and Thor have time to trade stories?” Loki asked, bewildered.

“We spar every so often,” Thor said. “And your name comes up.”

Brunnhilde chuckled. “A by-product of fighting, I think.”

“I have been known to inspire that in people,” Loki said dryly.

They were silent for a while, chewing on their food thoughtfully. After some minutes had passed, Thor said, “I wish Asgard hadn’t been destroyed. I know Heimdall said it was a people, not a place, but…”

“It doesn’t feel the same,” Loki finished for him. “I understand.” And he did. This place was nice, but the splendour of Asgard was something that could not be forgotten easily. Of course, Heimdall’s point would be to avoid thinking about _where_ Asgard was, but _who_ Asgard was, but even that was difficult. What was a people without the context from which they came? The Realm Eternal was not something that could be removed, sliced out surgically.

“It feels like a dream I will wake up from,” Thor carried on, caught in his own little world. “And Father and Mother will still be alive, and you will be pestering me to get up. We would walk down to the mess, and you would tease me, and everything would be fine.”

“We all wish for simpler times,” Brunnhilde said agreeably.

Thor waved a hand. “It is not so much that the times were simple, but the times were good. Even throughout war or complications, at least we had the worlds at our fingertips. We had armies, armadas, and resources. Now, if someone were to attack, we would be helpless.”

“At least we are self-sufficient,” Brunnhilde said, filling up everyone’s mugs.

“But we aren't, not really, because this world isn’t ours,” Thor said. “Not even this land is ours. We are being tolerated.”

Loki thought for a moment, wondering what Thor could do to help. “Perhaps you should focus more on your presentation to Midgard.” Thor turned to stare at Loki. “What? You barely speak to them publicly. You don’t traverse with the Avengers anymore. They don’t know who you are.”

“It has only been a few years!” Thor exclaimed. “Have they forgotten so soon?”

“He’s got a point,” Brunnhilde said. “The people of Sharpsburg avoid us like the plague. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the current socio-economic climate is hardily friendly to immigrants. You should work on outreach, maybe invite some of America’s council members or ambassadors to Nyrlif. Also, speak to Stark, he bought the land for us, he should make sure it _belongs_ to us.”

“Well, perhaps some other time,” Thor grumbled.

“I agree. We are here to celebrate _my_ achievement, not Thor’s downfalls.”

“Y’know, I always thought you needed something from each of the Nine Realms to make a true place of magic,” Brunnhilde said.

Thor turned to Loki. “Is this true?”

Loki, in his panic, just grinned. “Well, it’s generally _advised_ that you do--”

“Stop with the bullshit,” Thor moaned. Thor’s use of Midgardian vernacular grated on Loki a little bit, though he was forgetting who he was. “Is it true?”

Loki’s smile faltered. “Yes, it is.”

“How do you have something from every Realm?”

Loki looked between Brunnhilde and Thor. Brunnhilde looked somewhat apologetic, but not enough that it could be constituted as an actual apology. “I have a pocket where I can keep things.”

“So do most people.”

“No, I mean an interdimensional pocket. It exists between the branches of Yggdrasil, and it can only be accessed by me. I so happened to have a collection of items from each of the Nine in there.”

“You so happened,” Thor repeated slowly.

“I was always a hoarder, Thor. I would keep things I didn’t need all the time.”

“Yes, when we were younger.”

“I never stopped, I just kept things in the pocket rather than my room,” Loki admitted.

Thor obviously didn’t quite believe him but to Loki’s relief, he didn’t argue. “Do you have anything else useful in this… pocket?”

“If I had, don’t you think I would have told you already?”

“No.”

Loki sighed, sipping at his drink, thinking about the most important item hidden within the pocket. Oh, he should not lie to Thor about this, but he wasn’t ready to give the Tesseract over. He had use of it yet.

“I do not have anything that would help the people of Asgard,” he lied. “I do, however, have this.” He closed his eyes and felt for the pocket. He dipped his hand inside of it, and felt around for the stone. Once he found it, he pulled it out, showing it to Thor and Brunnhilde. “Communication stones. I gave the other to Captain Rogers to tell him when the building was ready.”

Quickly forgetting about the pocket, Thor perked up. “You have spoken to him?”

“I have.”

“Who’s that?” Brunnhilde asked.

“He was one of the Avengers, our Captain,” Thor explained. “When we returned to Earth, Bruce and I were told he had split apart. Fought to near death with Tony. Why does he need to know about this building? Is he injured?”

Thor was worried for the captain, Loki noticed with interest, so the problem with Rogers must not be enough to have caused Thor anger. The captain also knew about his healing abilities which meant another of the Avengers was feeding him information. They had a spy in their mists.

“No. His friend requires mind cleansing. He came to me in secret as he didn’t believe anybody would not be happy to see him.”

“I have heard.” Thor downed his drink in a few mouthfuls and refilled it at the keg. “It would be good to see him again. Banner and I have discussed our regret in leaving them for so long.”

“I will relay your message when I see him.” Loki offered good heartedly.

“Please. Tell him that he is welcome here. I will speak to Tony for him.”

Well, that made his militia plan much easier. He thought he was going to have to fight for it, but it seemed Thor disliked the fracturing of the Avengers as much as the other members. In fact, no one really seemed to be pleased about the fracturing, and yet no one was making any kind of effort to rejoin, asides from Barton showing up.

“I shall.” Loki agreed, “I will be back in a moment, to let the captain know this building is ready.”

Loki walked down to the shore of Semerwater, so he wouldn’t be distracted. He sent the magic through the stone; his own glowing green, and then dissipating as the signal was delivered to the captains. After, he stood and admired the stars for a few minutes, lost in his thoughts, feeling very small and very big all at once. Friggahof’s completion would mark a new chapter for Nyrlif - one where survival was secondary to living. At the same time, it was a meagre and tiny achievement compared to his past ones. Still, a small blessing was as good as a large one in times like this.

Loki walked slowly back to the hall, reveling in this strange feeling, almost like happiness. As he approached Friggahof, he realised he could hear the distinct booming voice of an angry Thor.

“Shit, I thought you knew!” Loki paused outside the door at the panic in Brunnhilde’s voice. Moreso, it was unlike her to sound as though she regretted her words.

“I did not. How could he not have told me this?”

“Probably knew you’d be as pissed as you are right now!?”

“Of course I am angry! Loki went against everything we stood for to do such a thing! Practicing _argr_ arts is one thing, but becoming a woman for _that_? Every time I try to understand him, to see things from his perspective, he slips away and does something inexplicable. It is one step too far!”

Loki backed away from the door, dread welling up inside him as his stomach dropped through his feet. He felt the blood come to his face in embarrassment, and he wanted to crumple to the ground, or burst in and tell Thor it wasn’t true, or set this whole fucking settlement aflame just to use the chaos distract from the awful nature of his world.

He didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he teleported to his room and hastily packed a backpack. He looked around his room. Oh, the ghosts of a life he could not have would never stop following him.

He had one last thing to do. He conjured paper and a pen, quickly scribbling down a note.

 

_Dear Ylva,_

_I am very sorry, but I will not be continuing our lessons. I have matters to attend to, and I do not know when I will return._

_Continue to practise every day if you can. Remember everything I have taught you. Meditation is important. Do not overly strain yourself. And remember, you may have been made, but this should not stop you from making yourself._

_You could become a very powerful seiðkonur; I hope to see you again one day._

_Loki_

 

He took it the Lake Semerwater and placed it under a rock to ensure it wouldn't blow away. Then, he cast two spells - one to ensure the weather wouldn't ruin it, and another to add a magical marker for Ylva, which would make the area thrum with energy when she approached. Loki had never used a marker for her before, but he hoped she'd get it anyways.

Just before his eyes shuttered closed, he took a moment to look out over the lake. Dim lights over the other side of the lake cast dripping reflections that made the lake look hollowed out. It was peaceful, and really, Loki had always been able to appreciate a bit of peace. He thought loudly enough for Yggdrasil to hear it; _I am away from here, Yggdrasil - anywhere, but I am not here._

After a moment of intense pressure, he opened his eyes to see the Captain packing a duffel bag.

“Jesus, Loki!” Rogers held his hands up defensively, slowly lowering them as he recognised him.

Loki looked around the room. It was in a dingy, dimly-lit apartment - he had no clue where he was, or how he managed to teleport there without knowing it. Yggdrasil must have heard him well.

His face spread into a wide grin, but Rogers just looked unsettled. “Change of plans,” Loki said calmly. “Thought I’d come to you.”


	3. Fall into Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for being a few days behind our (very loose) schedule. This was initially supposed to 3 chapters in total but the third was getting, frankly, unwieldy, so we split it into two. The next chapter should be up before the new year. Happy Christmas, everyone!

****Rogers hauled the last of the bags into the boot of a large, study-looking vehicle while Loki leaned against the brick wall outside of the dingy flats. It was the next morning; they had spent the night coming up with a plan of action, and Loki had left in the small hours to get himself some food whilst Rogers, who was either scared that Loki would kill him in his sleep or of being rude, napped for a while whilst he was out. Loki ended up buying what could probably be described as a “shit tonne” of French bread, which always reminded him of the sort made on Asgard, some preserved meats, and water. He’d finished most of his food half an hour ago; the rest he’d eat on the journey.

“You can’t drive, can you?” asked Rogers.

Loki shrugged. “I probably could. I can pilot fifteen types of space-faring ship, and seven airborne vessels. They’re all more or less the same.”

“Well, sit shotgun  and watch me drive. I don’t plan on going the whole way by myself.”

Both their combined complicated statuses - Loki as a literal illegal alien, and Rogers as America’s least wanted - meant they couldn’t use more conventional methods of travel. It would all have to be very discreet. The plan was to pick up Sam Wilson in Philadelphia - they were already in upstate New York - then drive to Mexico, specifically the port town of Tampico, where they would then be picked up by a Wakandan ship. Once out into international waters, a airborne vessel would pick them up.

“Get in,” Rogers said, slamming the door shut on his side.

Loki pushed off the wall and got into the vehicle. The engine spluttered into life.

“Have you been in a car before?” Rogers asked.

Loki gave him a blank stare. “Yes.”

Rogers stared back for a moment, looking irritated. “Alright. Now is probably a good time to start disguising us.”

Loki nodded, and begun a simple disguise. He transplanted the face of the man who used to guard Loki’s bedchambers onto Rogers, and he made his own look like Fandral’s younger brother, assuming that no one would recognise either. It was easier to use faces he knew, rather than editing those that already existed.

After that, they were silent until, a few hours later, they finally broke free of the metropolis of New York, and were into the outer suburbs. Rogers took a turn into Philadelphia, and once again, they were submerged by a seemingly endless matrix of people, buildings, roads and cars. They met Wilson in an industrial estate on the south side; he carried a duffle bag, and a heavy looking case.

Loki, electing to stay in the car, dropped the disguises while Rogers got out to exchange pleasantries. Loki could see the exact moment Wilson spotted him, because the happy smile slipped off his face.

And then, Rogers was getting back in, and Wilson did too.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in the back,” Wilson grumbled.

“Loki could swap with you,” Rogers offered.

“Could I?” Loki said dryly.

“Nah, I’d rather sit where I can see him,” Wilson said.

Loki reached around to the back and held out his hand. “Loki.”

Wilson took it, somewhat gingerly. “Sam Wilson. Or, the Falcon.”

“Are you related to Hawkeye?”

“No, I came first.”

Rogers snorted at that. Loki called the disguises back, and made Wilson look like the Alfheimian warrior who has served with Loki for some years, minus the ears. Wilson jumped as he looked as his face in the mirror.

“What the hell have you done to my face?!”

“It’s just glamour,” Loki said, rolling his eyes. Wilson bared his teeth in the mirror.

“It’s not permanent, right? I like the gap in my teeth. It adds character.”

“I could always make the gap bigger by knocking a tooth out,” Loki offered kindly. Once they hit the interstates, Loki could drop any magic, thankfully, and would only have to reinstate it when they passed through cities.

Wilson just looked unimpressed. “You know what? I’m good, thanks.”

Wilson and Rogers begun to chat away, caching up on some some veterans organisation. Loki just tuned them out, becoming lost in his own thoughts and occasionally noting what Rogers was doing at the wheel.  He’d have to face Thor eventually, but hopefully this would give them both enough to cool down and not throw punches - or worse. Still, Loki had rather hoped to just keep all of this a secret he could take to his grave. For a while, he was preoccupied with thinking of the places he could go to if Thor threw him out, but he quickly grew bored of the thought exercise when most roads lead back to Nyrlif or Sigyn.

Eventually, the other two lapsed into silence. Loki had been on long journeys before, of course he had, but usually he was riding a horse or doing something else to occupy him. This was boredom incarnate.

As they passed through a town he begun to entertain himself by creating projections. A lion meandered down the street; barely regarding the people who looked on confusedly. A bird that flew into people’s faces or legs, making them stumble and trip.

"Loki," Rogers sighed, "stop it."

"How else do you expect me to starve off my boredom?"

“You could drive for a bit?”

“He is not driving,” said Wilson firmly. “Not until we get into Mexico. I don’t want to be pulled over.”

Rogers shrugged. “I have a sketchbook in my backpack. You could draw or write. Just don’t draw on any of the pages I’ve already used.”

“That would suffice,” Loki said cooly.

“I could use a break, though,” Rogers said.

“I'll take over for a bit.” Wilson offered.

When they they pulled over to swap places - now throwing Loki in the back - Rogers got the sketchbook out of his backpack and handed it over, along with a tin of pencils and a couple of pens. Loki flipped it open and was surprised at the captain’s ability; the sketches were mature and delicate, which was not something he would expect of someone his brutish size. Featured often was a man’s face and body, who had dark hair and a square jaw. Equally, a woman with curly dark hair and bright eyes. _Past lovers,_ Loki thought. Why else would the two feature so often?

“These are… adequate.”

Wilson snorted. Rogers just smiled. “Thanks.”

Loki tried multiple pencils until he found one that was not too soft, and begun sketching what he had drawn multiple times and knew without reference; the flora and fauna parts needed for certain spells. Once he’d drawn a full page of those, he drew the skull of an Aesir man in as much detail as he could remember. He then attempted a sketch of his own hand, working from the bone up, including muscles, tendons, and veins, but it became too complex, too quickly.

Eventually, he ran out of anatomy he could render from heart, so he began on a sketch of Brunnhilde, but by that point night had fallen, so any further attempts were for naught.

Wilson eventually pulled the car over into a “motel” in Birmingham, Alabama. Loki was exhausted; though he’d only had to actually use _seiðr_ a handful of times, he still wolfed down the two large pizzas that Rogers ordered for him.

“Do you always eat this much?” Rogers asked as Loki licked the grease off his fingers.

“Why?”

“It’s unhealthy. You can’t be any more than 140 pounds.”

“I’m eighteen _fjórðungr_ ,” Loki said. “That’s about 180 pounds, I believe.”

“Dense in more than one way, then,” Rogers said, completely straight-faced.

Wilson gave a valiant attempt at hiding his snort behind his pizza.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, they finally crossed the border into Mexico after Loki pulled some simple mind tricks to fool the crossing guards. The sun was setting as Loki switched into the driver’s seat. He found driving to not be difficult at all, but was irritated by the lack of autopilot, and by the seemingly endless incomprehensible road laws which Rogers informed him of as he white-knuckled from the passenger seat.

With another driver they were able to swap more often, resting in the back seat when needed, they reached Tampico in better spirits. Loki was surprised by the vast differences in climate and geography - despite being only a few hours away from America, it seemed like a different planet. The town had grandiose architecture that was mixed with colourful buildings completely different to those found in the towns nearby to Nyrlif. The motel, which was a shabbier building not dissimilar to the other American motels they’d stayed in, overlooked the port that was quiet for the evening.

That night, they got some seafood and ate it on the quiet beach as waves lapped against the shore. It reminded Loki of Lake Semerwater, home, and his home with Sigyn all at once. Great bodies of water did that to him; for whatever reason, he’d always found a place next to one.

To stop any spiraling, he begun to think about how he would go about healing Barnes. “I need some more clarification,” the other two turned to face him. “What happened to this friend of yours? What exactly is it that I’m healing?”

“His mind was wiped and he was forced to be an assassin.” Rogers was sat stiffly as he spoke. “He seemed to be able to break through occasionally, remember who he is. So they wiped it again. He said there were words that they said that brought the complaint assassin back for a while. Long enough.”

Loki fell silent again, taking in the words and trying to figure out the best method of healing this man. “What is so special about this man that you want him healed?” It was a question worth asking. He seemed like a lost cause; how could one soldier be worth so much effort and energy?

“He was my best friend. Besides, I owe him a favour.”

“Must be a pretty big one,” he commented.

“Have you ever done this before, Loki?” Wilson asked.

Loki considered the question. “I have healed minds. Thor was often easily controlled by those more persuasive, and that I have had to break. But never quite as deeply as this sounds.”

“So, there’s a chance it won’t work?”

“Yes.”

“Best and worst case scenarios?”

“Best - it works. Worst - he dies.”

Rogers sat up at that, turning to face Loki fully. “It could kill him?”

“There is a chance, but it is more if I really misjudge. He’ll more likely end up a dead man walking. That is absolute worst case, though.”

“Oh, that’s a comfort.”

Loki, though he had no particular love for Rogers, did enjoy his deadpan humour. It was a nice change from Thor’s explain-the-joke variety. “I will do my best to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“Sorry, why are you helping us again?” Wilson asked. “I mean, I know you’ve got a deal with Steve for the militia shit but, why, really?”

Why did no one ever take his motivations at face value? True, he was one of the most notorious liars and tricksters in all of Midgardian history, but _still_. The incessant double-guessing made him wonder if this was all even worth it.

“I know what it’s like to be bent to the will of another.” Loki said cooly as he stood. “I must retire for the night.”

He heard the two stand to follow him back back to the motel where Loki just tossed and turned in his bed, too hot and uncomfortable to sleep. He eventually grew frustrated, kicked off his sheets, and headed out onto the shared balcony between his own room and Roger’s to bathe in the summer’s night. When he left this place, they would return to Nyrlif where winter was coming. Each day his _seiðr_ felt weaker and harder to use, and he didn’t know why. He thought Friggahof would at least alleviate it, but it had barely made a dent in the constant, chronic sense of exhaustion.

He wondered how the Aesir would deal with the change in temperature, given Asgard was in an eternal summer. They had arrived on Midgard at the tail end of winter, and would have rarely experienced real cold before they were thrown into spring. Loki had travelled; he had seen different worlds, different ways of life and different seasons. He had stood under a sun that felt as though it was going to melt him if he stayed there long, weathered monsoons and storms til water soaked under his skin, and he’d stood in snow that turned his skin ice blue. All of them, except the last one, had passed.

The air around him changed and he opened his eyes. “Captain,” He greeted.

“Loki,” Rogers said. He didn't appear to be surprised Loki had sensed him. He closed the door quietly and said in explanation, “Sam's asleep.”

“Are you not tired?”

“I slept in the car. You?”

“I do not sleep as much.”

Rogers stepped up beside him, placing his hands on the rails. “Nice view.”

Loki smirked. “You should see Asgard... should have seen.” He corrected himself, a quiet little sadness welling up inside him all of a sudden. The longer Asgard was inaccessible, the more desired to look out of his childhood bedroom to watch warriors cross the Rainbow Bridge, to walk again amongst its splendour. Just _once_ more.

“You miss it.”

For a moment, Loki had the absurd thought that Rogers could read minds. He glanced over to see the super soldier looking at him earnestly, curiously. “Very much,” he said after a long pause.

“What happened? I've heard news reports, but you guys have been pretty tight-lipped.”

“Ragnarok.” At Rogers’ confused look, Loki borrowed some of Stark’s vernacular. “Essentially, we blew it up.”

“Ah.”

Loki couldn't help it - he laughed a deep humourless chuckle while Rogers looked just a little bewildered. “And what of your Avengers? I have noticed things have rather changed since my first visit.”

“We, uh... had a disagreement.”

Loki turned to face him fully and rose a single eyebrow. “I do believe you’re under exaggerating.”

He laughed and turned back to the shore, which was lit intermittently with streetlights and the glow from the port. “You heard of the Sokovia accords?”

“Yes. I was told to sign it. I have not.”

“Neither have I, but Tony did.”

“That is all you argued about?” Loki asked. The Avengers must be baffled at Thor and his ability to argue to the point of bodily harm and make up within the space of a day.

“No… I--” Rogers shook his head, smiling wistfully. “You ever had hot coco, Loki?”

Loki, although a ‘cunt extraordinaire’ as Barton had put it recently, was not socially inept. He accepted the change of subject without so much as a flinch. “I have not.”

“I'll make you some. I'll grab some packets then meet you in your room, don't wanna wake Sam.” Rogers stepped back into his room. Loki, after a last look over the sea, returned to his own.

He sat and read for only a few minutes until Rogers returned with two little sachets and some mugs. “I’ll use your kettle. I don’t think we can heat up milk, so it’s instant stuff.”

“I won’t know the difference,” Loki said amicably.

Rogers set about putting the water to boil, tipping the contents of the sachets into mugs, and waiting in silence until the kettle was shaking so hard it looked like it was about to take off. He then poured the contents into the mug, stirred it, and handed one to Loki, who took it gingerly. He sat at the head of Loki’s bed, and Loki followed suit, gracefully mirroring him at the foot, nursing the warm drink.

He was silent for a while, staring just over Loki’s shoulder, hunched over and cross-legged as he balanced his mug on his knee. Despite his incredible size, he looked much smaller and more delicate than Thor ever had, making Loki realise that his inner comparison of the two had always been based on rather superficial attributes.

Rogers looked young, too. He looked like the soldiers that Thor and Loki had lead into war; young, still growing, confused by their own new height and balance. Not all that much younger than Loki had been, really, but he’d been raised to expect the battlefield. It had always lay in wait for the moment he would step across it’s blood-soaked path, an inevitability. Loki was tempted to ask Roger’s his age, but he spoke up first.

“The man you're helping... he's dangerous. He's fast, strong, and has been brainwashed to kill.” Rogers sighed deeply, bone-weary. “And he killed Tony's parents. We fought. I defended Bucky, and Tony-- I don't know if he would have killed me to get to him.”

“And yet you miss Stark?” Loki asked disbelievingly.

“And yet you miss Thor?” Rogers countered.

“Thor has never attempted to kill me. Well, not seriously.”

“Even so. I don't blame Tony and I don't blame Bucky. Just as I don't blame you.” Loki looked at him, confused. “You were brainwashed, weren't you?”

He didn't quite trust his mouth so instead he just gave a quick nod and looked away sharply.

“You are still in contact with some of the Avengers then?” He asked eventually.

“You do have a double agent in your settlement.”

Loki chuckled. Of course, Natasha. “Once a double agent, always a double agent. Thor would like to see you when we return to Nyrlif, by the way.”

Rogers smiled to himself. “That'll be nice.” They fell back into silence for a moment. Rogers sipped at his drink, Loki belatedly remembered his own and tasted it. It was sweet, with a hint of cinnamon. It reminded him of a drink his nurse used to make him when he was very young. She had died a long time ago; Loki was glad she had been spared seeing Asgard fall.

“What's Thanos like?” Rogers asked quietly.

Loki thought for a moment. “I have not met many who scare me,” he said. He did not finish the sentence.

Rogers was unsettled by that. “Think he'll come to Earth? Since you didn't get him the Tesseract?”

“I am surprised he has not yet.”

“We'll deal with any threat. We always do.”

Loki snorted. He didn't believe that, but Rogers said it so earnestly it was endearing. “With your Avengers so far apart?” He didn’t just mean physically.

“You brought us together the first time. Another threat will bring us together again.”

“Or split you apart further than ever.”

“No.”

Loki turned back to Rogers. He was sat stiffly, eyes narrowed, defiant. “You really believe you’ll work together? You’ll win? Against _anything_.”

“I have to.”

“Do you _ever_ want to give up?”

“Sometimes,” Rogers admitted. “But I always carry on.”

“Why?”

“Because. I don’t like bullies.”

Loki was surprised by that answer. “You speak from experience.”

It wasn’t a question, but Rogers nodded. “When I was too small and weak to defend myself, I still tried to fight the idiots who were loud and picked on the little guy. Bucky used to have to save me from myself a lot,” he said, with a nostalgic smile.

“You were not always…?” Loki gestured with his mug to Rogers’ size.

Rogers chuckled. “No. It was an experiment. The same one that gives Buck his strength, speed, durability. We need to be ready to deal with that if he wakes up still brainwashed.”

“As you say… we’ll deal with any threat.”

Rogers nodded, and hesitated for a moment. “Thank you for this, Loki. I know you’re getting something in return but-- this means more to me than you could know.”

Loki thought back to the pictures he had seen in the sketchbook Rogers had leant him. Since he had been so good this entire conversation, he allowed himself one cheeky question. “Was Barnes your lover?”

Loki then immediately found himself covered with hot coco as Rogers spluttered and coughed, hitting at his own chest.

“God no,” Steve said between coughs. “He was my best friend. And Bucky _liked_ his women.”

Loki cleaned his face and bed with some simple magic. Rogers had stopped coughing, but was looking a little red in the face still. Loki regarded him, faux-innocent. _“_ Just _Bucky_ liked his women?”

Rogers downed the rest of his drink and cleared his throat a few times. Loki hid his smirk behind his mug. “I’m gonna try to sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow. Now we’ve done the journey can you teleport us back?”

“Do you really think I would have endured two days in a car if I could teleport? No. It is not that simple. I need to know where I am going, and to take three people is a drain. I will need all my strength.”

“Right. In that case, goodnight Loki.” Rogers stood and awkwardly patted his shoulder, heading back to his own room.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning they hired a boat to take them across the water into a section of international water off the coast of Tampico.

As they waited for the plane to pick them up, Loki looked around at the water surrounding them for miles, the coast of Mexico just about visible on the horizon. He noticed that Rogers was picking at his nails, in a gesture that Frigga had often done when she was nervous or unsure.

“Scared of a little water?” he teased, thinking back to the first time on a plane with Rogers

“Haven’t had the best of experiences with it,” Rogers said. “I prefer being the in air.”

“Hear hear,” Wilson said grimly, squeezing his eyes shut when they hit another wave.

Loki glanced up as he heard a distance thrumming, he could see a black dot on the horizon slowly getting larger as it moved towards them.

Once above them, the wind from the engines caused the boat to rock violently and a rope ladder was thrown down to the boat. Rogers and Wilson went first; by the time Loki had followed, they were shaking hands with a man who had the same powerful ease as royalty. He was about the same height as Loki, but had dark skin, was broader, and exuded quiet confidence. Loki stuck out his hand to shake, which the man took quickly.

“Loki, this is King T’Challa,” Rogers said.

“ _King_?” He dropped the hand and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.” Odin hadn’t planned on using him as a diplomat for nothing; he knew how to schmooze royals.

T’Challa looked surprised for a moment. “You speak Xhosa?”

“I’m pretty sure I heard English?” Wilson loud whispered to Rogers.

“I have the ability of Allspeak, where I understand all languages, and I am understood by all men in their mother tongue.”

“Well, it is good to meet you, Loki of Nyrlif.” As his accent got stronger and he saw the bewildered look from Rogers and Wilson, Loki realised he was speaking Xhosa.

“We didn’t expect you to come all this way yourself,” Rogers said to him.

“I thought it best to ensure your safety. And besides, it is nice to see a friend.” T’Challa continued warmly in English and looked between them all. “Sit, relax and help yourself to refreshments. It will be a few hours until we reach Wakanda.”

 

* * *

 

 

They arrived as the sun was getting low in the sky. T’Challa gave Loki a quick tour around the palace, but they could all see Rogers was becoming more and more jittery as time passed.

Loki wasn’t the only one to notice the nervous energy that Rogers was oozing. T’Challa smiled at him, slightly amused. “Come. They should be ready to wake Sergeant Barnes.”

The medical room where Bucky was kept safe was deep underground from the palace. Soon enough, Loki found himself stood on a balcony looking down at a cryogenic pod with a man frozen within. Loki recognised him from the sketches he saw in Rogers’ book, which he now realised were startlingly accurate.

The room was bustling with people and chatter. “New arm.” Sam commented. Loki eyed the mechanical arm with interest; it had deep ridges, presumably allowing for movement , and it had the shape of muscles built in. To match his other, perhaps? It was an incredible feat of engineering regardless, assuming it worked.

“Vibranium. We fitted it a few months ago,” one of the doctors informed them. “We thought it was better to do whilst he was still in cryogenic sleep due to the difficult procedure.”

“Sergeant Barnes is ready to be woken,” a woman informed them. The doctor scurried away, examining his clipboard.

Everybody in the room turned to the cryogenic pod. Slowly, inch by inch, the ice began to thaw. It took a while, and Loki turned to look at others. Rogers was gripping the balcony tight enough to bend the metal while Wilson’s arms were crossed and his feet were set shoulder-width apart. A fighting stance. The Wakandan doctors and nurses were still bustling around or looking stressed at monitors, yelling numbers to each other.

Finally, the tube opened up and Bucky’s eyes shot open. There was an incredibly tense moment, where his eyes darted around the room and his hands were clenched by his side.

“James Buchanan Barnes?” a doctor said tentatively.

Bucky immediately leapt from the chamber and lunged at the man, shoving him hard enough that he skidded across the ground.

“Loki, restrain him!” Rogers ordered, already jumping over the balcony.

Loki did as he was told without a sarcastic comment, leaping down the balcony. He reached for his magic and projected multiple copies of himself around Barnes, which were all wearing formal ceremonial armour, since it made him look larger than he was. They all stood in a battle-ready stance, spears in hand.

It only served to anger Barnes further when he punched one and his arm went through it., but it still survived its purpose in distracting him enough for the real Loki to get behind him and restrain him, twisting his real arm behind his back. Wincing as he felt how strong he was, Barnes struggled furiously and cried out wildly, screaming like an animal. Rogers was immediately in front of him, ducking down slightly to make himself look smaller.

“Bucky, hey, pal, look at me. It’s Steve, Steve Rogers.”

Barnes stopped struggling as hard, only putting a token effort. Rogers put an hand on his human shoulder and Loki made his copies disappear. “Steve?” Barnes whispered hardly, his head jerking upwards.

“It’s me.” Rogers touched his face with one hand, looking so tender it was almost intrusive for Loki to be there.

“Steve,” Barnes whispered, going lax. “Steve.”

Rogers nodded at Loki, and so he stepped back and released the now calmer man.

Nurses and doctors ran to the one that was thrown across the room. Barnes took a step back, just now realising where he was and what he had done. He looked over to the injured man, realised that it was his fault, and looked guilty. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you--”

“I am fine,” the man said as he sat up brushing off the people around him, sounding a little bit shaken. “I should not have gotten so close.” He smiled at Bucky, attempting to release some tension in the room.

Barnes turned back to Rogers. “What’s going on, buddy?”

“Do you remember coming to Wakanda?”

“Yeah…” he said slowly, obviously still sluggish. “I went in the ice until we can remove the shit in my head.” Barnes tapped his head a few times, then repeated the action unnaturally, still looking a bit wild.

“I’ve found a way.” Rogers gestured to Loki and Barnes turned, confused. Loki smiled, trying to look unassuming.

“Where’s the other twenty of you?”

“Projections. Distractions to ensure no other people got hurt.”

“Oh, right. Well, thanks.”

“C’mon, let’s get some food in you,” Rogers told him, placing a hand on his back and led him towards the stairs. “I’ll explain everything.”

Loki followed after a moment, falling in pace with Wilson. “Were you expecting a fight?”

“Didn’t know what to expect. Still don’t.”

“You do not trust Barnes?”

“I trust Steve. I trust Barnes about as far as I could throw the Winter Soldier.” Wilson sped up to catch up with the other two, but Loki stayed behind, in no particular rush. However, Loki had noticed the soldiers following a few metres behind; an entourage, perhaps.

“Who even _are_ these people?” One of the guards said to the other.

“I don't know. The King seems to think they are important.” The other guard sounded exasperated.

“If they are important to our King, then they are important to us.” The first guard responded with a practised ease. Loki couldn’t quite tell if it was tongue-in-cheek or not; he wondered if T'Challa was a good leader.

“Of course,” the other guard replied, “perhaps we should ensure we left shampoo in that man’s room, since it looks like he doesn’t own any himself.” Both guards sniggered quietly to themselves. Loki frowned, were they hoping for a beating? He glanced around to the innocent looking men and realised they weren’t speaking English, and didn’t realise Loki could understand them.

Loki turned to face them fully, walking backwards, begging the Norns that he didn’t trip over and ruin the moment. “I wash my hair often, thank you very much. I think it rude to talk about your guests in such a manner.”

The two guards practically stumbled over themselves to apologise, probably worried that Loki would pass on what they had said to their King. Loki smirked and turned so he was walking normally, feeling quite pleased with himself.

“I think I’d have to see that to believe it,” Wilson muttered, purposefully loud enough for Loki to hear.

“You’re welcome to join me in the baths whenever you like,” Loki told Wilson, his voice sultry and a coy smile on his face.

Wilson gagged. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“You did pretty much ask for that, Sam,” Rogers laughed. It was the most genuine laughter Loki had heard from him since meeting in New York. He knew it had everything to do with the haggard man at his side, who was inspecting his metal arm with interest and ignoring the conversation around him.

Loki grinned widely. “Little Falcon has bitten off more than he can chew.”

“I’m not biting into anything, thank you very much. Are you always this condescending?”

“Only to mortals.”

Barnes stopped flexing his metal arm and looked over, surprised. “Mortal, as opposed to…?”

“Gods,” Loki said. “Or, as I believe we are called on Midgard… aliens.”

“Fucking aliens exist,” Barnes said. “I’m walking with an alien. Where are you from, then? Mars?” He added the last bit with a wry grin.

“Mars?”

“Fourth planet from the sun,” Rogers supplied.

“Oh,” Loki replied. “Hyrgard. Hyrgard has not been inhabited since a Fire Giant colony some centuries ago. I was not aware Midgardians knew about that.”

“We don’t,” Wilson said, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “We had _colonists_? In _our_ galaxy?”

“You had colonists on your planet,” Loki said dryly. “Until Asgard drove them off.”

“So… where _are_ you from?” Barnes asked.

“I’m the product of Jotunheim - the Frost Giants - but I was raised on Asgard, home of the Gods.”

“You don’t really look like a giant.”

“I’m well aware, thank you.”

Rogers lost interest in the conversation by that point, instead asking Barnes a barrage of questions about his health. Meanwhile, Wilson had a smug look on his face. When Loki questioned it, he just muttered something about _the little Giant that could_.

It was at that point that Loki also lost interest in the conversation.

 

* * *

 

 

They were given rooms in the palace for the night with the promise that they would have an easier journey back the next day, utilising one of T’Challa’s planes.

Loki walked the halls of the palace finding himself once again struggling to sleep, ignoring the guards who gave him odd looks. The palace was grand and beautiful, but very different to Asgard, he noted with interest. In fact, he wasn’t sure what it could be compared to, really. They were technologically advanced and yet their buildings were built into mountains which peeked out through gold-plated pillars. The rock was a facade, however - when Loki tried to break a piece off, he was pushed backwards by a gentle but insistant force field.

As he wandered back to their rooms, he overheard a muffled crash and some strained voices, those of Barnes and Rogers. His stomach dropped, and he forced himself into their room.

Loki quickly took in the scene. Barnes had a spluttering Rogers by the throat, holding him up against the wall as the other man writhed and panicked. Their room was in disarray, and a chair lay broken on the ground.

“Bucky--” he gasped, “it’s me--”

They were fools for not restraining him; of _course_ something like this would happen. Loki strode up to the two, grabbed Barnes by the shoulder, and pushed his magic to find a memory that would help bring _Bucky_ back.

Barnes dropped Rogers with a crash and stumbled backwards, tripping up and landing on his backside with a cry. “How-- what--”

He looked around in confusion. Rogers was immediately by his side. “Are you alright?”

“He just tried to _kill you_ ,” Loki said, with some confusion.

“It wasn’t him,” Rogers said firmly. “It was the Soldier.”

Loki was beginning to see the distinction. “What happened?”

“Nightmare,” Barnes said. They were both wearing loose casual clothes - sleeping clothes. “I panicked.”

What a fucking understatement.

Loki glanced between the two. “You do know my magic cannot fix nightmares?”

Barnes nodded, looking considerably calmer now he was back in reality. “How did you-- how did you make me see that-- did you see that memory?”

“No,” Loki said. “I only seeked a memory that would make you remember who you were. I didn’t choose it personally.”

“Oh, thank God,” Barnes said. Rogers looked at him, frowning. “It was that time you had real bad pneumonia, y’know, the time with the fever, so I gave you a sponge bath, and you g--”

“Right, thanks,” Rogers said sharply.

Loki looked between them. Rogers’ ears were a little pink. “Anyway,” he said after a moment. “I’m going to retire. Should you need me… shout, I suppose.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m not gonna sleep again, not after that.”

“Exhaustion may actually benefit us during the healing, so do what you like,” Loki said. “I, however, should sleep.”

With that, he swanned out of the room, feeling more and more sorry for Barnes by the moment.

 

* * *

 

 

Come day, they broke fast together in a subdued silence. Wilson had no doubt heard about what’d transpired that night, and kept on glancing up at Barnes with weary eyes. Barnes himself looked no better; his hair was knotted and ragged (had no one given him a comb?), and his eyes bruised with exhaustion.

After they ate and packed their bags, they were escorted to a large, sleek looking ‘jet’, as T’Challa called it. Loki watched with amusement as Wilson and Barnes started bickering over a seat.

“You remind me of the Warriors Three,” he mused, “always vying for Thor’s attention. The best seat beside the prince.”

They two flushed, looking mortified, moving to sit as far from each other and Rogers as was possible in the small plane.

“Why were you wondering around last night, anyways?” Rogers asked.

“Working on a way to overthrow King T’Challa.” Loki smiled cooly as he found himself on the wrong side of a few guns. “Perhaps not.”

“It was a joke.” Rogers’ explained hastily to the people holding weapons to Loki. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Sure.”

“ _Loki_.”

“Yes, yes. It was a joke. You all need a little more mischief in your life.”

“I’ve had enough mischief for multiple lives, thanks,” Barnes said darkly. Loki ignored the comment.

As the jet took off, Wilson stared out of the window, perfectly content to just watch the sky go past, whilst Barnes and Rogers chatted about some memory from their past of flying. Loki, meanwhile, found his fingernails digging into his palms. He was beginning to feel more and more like he had bitten off more than he could chew, and no amount of bread and preserved meats would give him the energy to do this task.

To distract himself, once they had the all-clear from the pilot, he took off his seatbelt and approached Barnes and Rogers. They fell ominously silent as he approached.

“I would like to know more about how your situation came about,” Loki said, “so that I may know better how to help you.”

Barnes and Rogers looked between each other. “It’s kind of a long story,” Barnes said.

“We have many hours, do we not?”

He shrugged and begun to tell his tale, in a blase way that Loki appreciated. It was done, true, but that would not continue to control him. By the end, Rogers was visibly shaken, probably never having asked for the full story in the way that Loki had just asked for.

However, he was satisfied, though Barnes had missed out some details of the specific methods used to condition and torture him. To give them both some respite, he leaned back on his chair and commented that he didn’t realise they had both been _actual_ soldiers.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Rogers asked, confused.

“Well, you’re a captain, are you not? On Asgard at least, our captains are never soldiers,” Loki said. Asides Brunnhilde, he amended, but these two would not know of her.

“They are here,” Barnes said. “Hell, I didn’t spend six months in the trenches for nothing. Well, I did, but I didn’t know that at the time.”

“How do you become a captain then, if you’re not soldiers?”

Loki looked between them, frowning. “Well, usually only the elite could become a captain’s apprentice. Usually you had to have a certain level of familial regard, from there, a contingent captain, captain, general, and then a leader of the Combined Armies of Asgard,” he said. “I started as a captain’s apprentice, as did Thor. We were never strictly speaking soldiers, though during our very earliest years we did tend to join in on the battlefield for sport. Thor much prefers to be in the thick of the battle.”

“That seems unfair.”

“To be _fair_ ,” said Barnes to Rogers, “you were handed your title. Though, you earned it properly when you saved two hundred men from Hydra.”

“Not uncommon amongst the rich to be handed a title,” Loki said mildly.

Rogers laughed. “I wasn’t rich. Neither of us were.”

“Then why were you handed the title of captain?” Loki asked. He had gotten glimpses of Roger’s past, and of course, Rogers himself had said he wasn’t always the size he was, but surely that wasn’t enough to give someone a contingent? Of course military structure would be different on Midgard, but he’d not given it much thought at all, asides from what he’d needed to know for his attack on Midgard. Even that had mostly been concerned with the very highest, and the numbers of troops, not the command structure in between.

“It was just a title - a name - at first.” Rogers laughed. “I was a dancing monkey. Then I found out Buck was captured, along with half the squadron, so I rescued them. I was given the rank officially after that.”

“So, how _do_ the ranks work on Midgard?” He looked between them, surprised to see they looked unsure.

“Depends on what military service it is,” Wilson spoke up. Loki had almost forgotten that he was there. “Army and Air Force are similar, Navy’s a bit different. Also depends on country. But in the US, you start off pretty much bottom and work your way to the top, no matter your family or financial status. But it depends on your role and route; engineers are different from the kids who go to boot-camp.”

“Were you also a soldier?” Loki realised he hadn’t spoken to Wilson much during the journey, not that he had cared enough to try.

“Air force pararescue.” At Loki’s blank stare, he sighed. “I wore big wings and flew about saving people.”

“I didn’t come across _that_ in my research of Midgard.”

“It was a unique role,” Wilson said. “What was your rank, then?”

“I only reached captain, actually,” Loki said. “Thor was probably going to be promoted before Odin announced his coronation, since he spent more time at war. Since Odin’s death, his rank, I suppose, is now that of a Leader of the Combined Forces of Asgard,” he added thoughtfully.

“Very regal,” he replied.

“Well, we were the Princes Crowned.”

“I guess that explains it,” Wilson said, deadpan. Loki huffed a laugh at that.

“Where did you fight?” Loki asked them all, curious now.

“I was stationed in Afghanistan, did two tours.”

“We were all over Europe. Germany, France, Belgium,” Barnes said. “I guess I’ve fought in a lot of countries as the Winter Soldier.”

“I’ve been all over the world in the Avengers.”

“How did you end up joining them anyway?” Barnes asked Rogers.

Loki tuned them out as Rogers told Barnes about waking up in this century, about the Avengers and even meeting Wilson. He wasn’t a natural storyteller, and would often fumble over his words. Once Wilson joined the picture, however, he spun the stories in far more entertaining lights.

They touched down in a airfield only a couple of hours away from Nyrlif at around 3 AM. On the drive back, Loki stuffed himself with more food, hoping that it could at least begin to stifle the dread he was feeling.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki strode through Nyrlif, his head held high with the other three soldiers in tow. The sun hadn’t crossed over the horizon yet, but it still loomed to the east of the ashy, dark blue sky, so the streets were empty. They had laid cobbles down over the mud paths, and the streets which had once lined with bored people beside tents were now laden with houses and shops alike. It was now beginning to look like a real village rather than a refugee camp.

It wouldn’t be long before Nyrlif would come alive with people waking to break their fast, or to open their shop. The farms - just outside of the main village - had likely been awake for hours, preparing the fields for spring, and tending to animals. Stark had bought them the first lot of supplies, a herd of cows, sheep, and even some horses, but they wanted to continue from there without his help.

They were finally becoming self-sufficient. He smiled to himself as he realised this - he had helped this to happen, for what was left of Asgard to become something worth being proud of once again. The smile quickly faded as he realised that he would almost certainly have to leave.

The three soldiers following him were looked around, all tense, wary to be in sight, but this was the easiest way to Friggahof. Loki could see Huginngard, where Thor would be sleeping peacefully; he wanted to speak to him, but at the same time, really, _really_ didn’t. Besides, what would he say?

Loki let the three into Friggahof. They looked around with interest, and Loki realised they would never would have seen any kind of _seiðr_ temple. They were rare enough by Aesir’s hands, never mind on Midgard.

He begun preparing healing stones, dropping them into a circle. He would embed them into the wood itself, but that old children’s story of stolen power had been in his mind as he made the plans for the building. “This may take a while. You two should keep watch, but try not to interrupt me. Mistakes could be fatal.”

“We should be careful. If Tony sees me--”

“Too late.” The four of them turned to see Stark in the doorway. “Did you guys really think I didn’t have this place rigged with sensors?”

Rogers attempted to push Barnes behind himself, but the other man held steady. “Tony,” Rogers greeted warily.

Stark turned to face Loki, his helmet staying firmly down. “Did you _not_ get the memo, Loki?”

With the realisation at how terribly this could go, Loki stepped to the side of the room away from the group, breaking out into an unassuming grin. “I'm afraid I did not.”

“They,” Stark pointed at Wilson, Rogers and Barnes, “are _not_ welcome here.” Stark uncurled his hand, keeping it facing towards the soldiers.

“We're not staying long.”

“No. You're not.” Stark agreed, lifting his palm, the familiar whine of his weapons sounded. “I mean, you Rogers, I could--” Stark turned his head and was silent for a moment then spoke again thrusting his hand towards Barnes. “But _him_? Why the fuck would you bring _him_ here?”

This time, Rogers stepped in front of Barnes. Loki noted that with interest. “We're here for help,” Rogers told him. “Please, Tony, just let Loki heal Buck and then we'll go. I don't want to fight you.”

“Again, you mean. Fight me _again_.”

“Yeah.” Rogers looked down, guilty and tired. “I was only defending Bucky,” he looked up to Stark, defiant this time. Loki realised the deepness and illogicality of his affection - to the end of the world and past, it seemed.

“And then abandon me, leave me there to _die_.”

“We didn't--”

“I had no power!" Stark yelled desperately. “You _crushed_ the arc reactor, my ribs along with it! Nobody knew where I was! Alone, freezing, barely able to breathe. If F.R.I.D.A.Y didn't--” Stark sucked in a breath and Loki saw him moving his left arm around unconsciously stretching his wrist. “If F.R.I.D.A.Y didn't call for backup earlier, you might as well have not aimed for the reactor, _Rogers_.”

The captain flinched at the words and Barnes stepped around him, looking resigned. “Then do what you need to do, Stark. For the love of _God_ , if you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”

“Bucky--" Rogers turned to grab his arm but Barnes pulled away.

“I get it, Stark. I really do. Howard was--”

“Shut the fuck up!” Stark all but screamed, his thrusters lifting him off the ground to loom over Barnes. “Shut _up_ about Howard!”

“He was a good man,” Barnes persisted. “I know what I did and if killing me will make you feel better, could even slightly fix what I’ve done, then do it." Rogers grabbed Barnes’ arm, and they exchanged two sharp glances that spoke whole novels, like how siblings could; after a moment, Rogers let go regretfully.

“Loki." Stark said his name much to casually for Loki's liking, and he looked up wearily. "If you had the chance to avenge your mother, would you?"

Loki hesitated. He knew what it was like to be forced to hurt people he didn't want to hurt, and with every cold death losing sight more and more of who you truly were. He knew how it was to be under someone else’s command, and barely even realising why that was wrong. And yet...

“The monster that killed Frigga I ripped to shreds.” Again was the whine of Stark’s hand weapon, and Loki spoke quickly. “From what I understand, Barnes was not himself. That monster _was_ , and knew damn well who he was killing. He could have stopped at any time. Barnes could not. That is why we are here, to remove the Winter Soldier.”

The noise stopped and in its place came crazed laughter. “You've gone from Pinocchio growing a conscience to Jiminy Cricket, Loki. This it too fucking good.”

Perhaps this was Stark’s spiral. Perhaps this was the thing that made him go _mad._ Loki had to fix this situation - he had to mediate before things got worse, before Stark found his Bifrost to wreak havoc with. “You want Barnes to be guilty, yes?” he asked quickly.

“He _is_ guilty.”

“Then let me remove the Soldier,” Loki said smoothly. “All that remains will be Bucky Barnes; who else will there be to blame for the senseless deaths but him?”

Stark glided down to the ground, thinking it over. Loki bit the inside of his cheek, waiting for the verdict. To double down now would be to make himself look panicked, so he could only wait on Stark's decision.

“Y'know what?” Stark lowered his arm, “go ahead. Give him back his conscience. Let him feel _everything_.”

“I do feel it, Stark. Every one of my victims. I feel them _all_. I hate myself for what happened.”

“It wasn't you.” Rogers murmured. Loki wanted to groan and tell him to shut up.

“Except it was!” Barnes yelled, turning his back to Stark to face Rogers.

“You didn't know what you were doing!”

“Maybe not, but _I_ still did it. The only reason I fought him in Siberia is because I knew you wouldn't back down, Steve, it’s not in you. I couldn't let him go through you to get to me." He spun back to Stark. "Loki's fixing my mind so the trigger words won't work anymore. It won't change anything else, that it was me that killed your parents. Fuck, I strangled your mother, Tony. So, do it. _Kill me._ ”

The silence after that was stunning. Loki glanced around, waiting to see who would speak first.

“That's what you want isn't it?" Stark said slowly. Barnes shoulders sagged as he realised he was found out. Rogers looked at him with surprise. "You _want_ to die." For the first time, Stark lowered the helmet. His face was streaked with tears, but his face was stony and cold.

"I don't want this pain anymore." Barnes said, his voice raw.

"Then that's my revenge. You have to live and feel them. All of them. Loki, what are you waiting for?"

“Well, I was waiting for you to finish--” At Stark’s look, Loki shut up. “Alright. Barnes, in the middle of the circle, please.”

 

* * *

 

 

Loki sat by Barnes’ head, cross-legged. Rogers stood at one side of Barnes, Stark on the other. Ready to stop him should the Winter Soldier come out. Wilson was stood a few paces away.

“There is an ancient concept,” said Loki as he drew the last few symbols onto his skin, “called _utangard._ It means to be outside what is normal, organised, disciplined - to be outside of the enclosure of the mind. If you are in a state of _utangard_ , it can be destructive, chaotic, anarchic. But it is from chaos and death by which new life is born, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Loki tilted his head slightly, and Barnes’ eyes were alight with understanding. He carried on, rubbing the last of the fat-charcoal mix residue off his fingers and onto a rag. “Let yourself become _utangard_. Let me in and do not bother to hold back, because I have had true evil inhabit my mind. I have seen it all before. It will only hinder my healing if you attempt to stop me. If you feel you are struggling… well, I’ll know.”

Loki took in a deep breath and rest his palm flat over Barnes’ forehead. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“Then we shall begin,” Loki said.

He let his eyes close and once again, he let his magic push through just as he wondered wryly how many mortals he was going to heal before he had penance.

He was quickly submerged into the mind of the other man, preferring to create a visualisation to help him work - many more experienced healers would go ‘eyes closed’ and not bother with such a thing. It looked much the same as any normal mind, except it was more clearly split in two than any other he had seen before. It was not uncommon for people with multiple strong personas to have something of a divide in their mind; Thor had a slight difference in his mind because of his public and private self, for example. But the difference here was almost literally night a day.

Loki went to investigate the darker recesses. Here, the mind was rotting and decrepit. As he went, he scooped out some of the festering injury, which Barnes did not struggle against overmuch, but most of it would either be permanent or would be fixed once the infection was gone. He was searching for a few minutes before he finally found an unnaturally built wall.

The wall had a seemingly random election of words seared into it. Words one knew by heart were often etched into the walls of the mind, but these were not the gentle carvings of speeches memorised or tender last words. They had been imprinted on in a violent way, which Barnes’ mind was desperately clawing at.

This was the infestation. Loki gathered his strength and _pushed_.

Barnes instantly rebelled, of course. Such a violent shove against the mind would feel incredibly unnatural and, most likely, excruciating.

“Stop resisting,” Loki whispered through gritted teeth.

The revolt lightened up only a little, but it enough to work with. He gave another great tide of magic, then another, and another, until the wall began to slim and break, the great holes in it weeping pain and anger.

Loki felt Barnes buck against his hand with a yelp and Loki suddenly resurfaced, seeing the titled and disorientating image of _Steve Steve Steve_ through the eyes of Barnes-- Bucky-- Winter Soldier-- _the weapon is ready to be deployed_ \--

Loki shoved them both back under with a grunt. “Free your mind, Barnes,” he spat, “before you _kill it_.”

There was a moment of struggle, but he finally relaxed. Loki’s lapse in concentration had given Barnes respite, but now Loki was _angry_. With his fury on his side, he set about again at tearing the unnatural wall down, this time with the last-effort help of Barnes’ battle-weary mind. Finally, the last pieces of it began to crumble, and Loki’s job was almost done. But through the holes came an onslaught of memories that cascaded over both of them.

Loki gritted his teeth and _Steve, the idiot, got himself sick again, meds were gonna cost too much, and--_

_he looked down the sights of the sniper rifle at the teenager, ready to pull the trigger, and--_

_I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, pal--_

_the target said “Bucky?” and--_

_he was falling--_

Loki tore himself away and he jolted back into reality. The world tilted on its axis as Bucky gasped and choked under him.

“ _God_ ,” gasped Bucky, tears falling down his cheeks as he struggled to sit up.

Steve rushed to his side. “Are you alright?” Bucky nodded, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth. Steve finally looked over to Loki, his eyes went wide, “Loki? What- what’s happened?”

Loki stared at him, suddenly seeing him differently, just for a split second - seeing a man who was once so small, a man who fought til he was crumpled on the ground and still laughed in the face of adversity, a man who looked drowned and endearing and stupidly proud in his brand new uniform.

Then, everything snapped back to reality, to a cold cabin on Midgard where the sunrise was streaming in through the windows. To a reality where he was running, not found. Loki nodded, grinning at the man who was, and then immediately fainted.

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of a door closing woke him. There was something lying on him - it wasn’t heavy enough that he couldn’t push it off if he wanted to, but he could feel warmth radiating from it and the sound of soft breathing. He winced against the light as he opened his eyes, and turned his head to see what was on him.

Ylva shuffled sleepily, one of her hands gripping his shirt, the other tucked under her head, resting on his shoulder. She had burrowed into his side, so that one of his arms rested around her like a barrier. He was in his own room, he realised, and it was just the two of them.

“Ylva?” he spoke her name softly, gently moving the arm wrapped around her. She groaned and shook her head, burying it deeper in the crook of his neck. He chuckled.

“Comfortable?”

“Mmmhmm.” She nodded, then gasped, sitting up quickly and almost headbutted Loki’s chin in her haste. “Loki! You fool!” she said, shaking his chest. She’d borrowed the insult from him, he realised.

“Ow?” Loki said.

“You left!” she shouted at him, slapping his chest. “For what sounded like forever in your idiotic letter! And then you come back just to almost _die_?”

He frowned. He remembered fainting, but hadn’t realised he’d overexerted himself to the point of death. “I almost died?”

“Yes!” she sagged her shoulders, her energy leaving her all at once.“I woke up when I felt it. There was a-- a energy noise! I had to follow it. I ran to Friggahof and you were on the ground and _blue,_ for some reason. Everybody was shouting and Mr Stark said Friday wasn’t detecting a pulse, which I still don’t understand, cause it’s a Wednesday.” She looked up at him, eyes wide and innocent. “You weren’t breathing, and my _seiðr_ was pulling, so I went over to you and I didn’t want you to be hurt anymore. And then you weren’t.”

Loki was certain it was the most he had heard her speak at once. Cold fear settled into him when she said he had been in his Jotun form; it meant that now, everyone would know of the beast within, even if the mortals wouldn’t understand it’s significance. Once Thor had explained the situation - because, no doubt, the mortals would ask - he would probably be ostracised. Ylva likely wasn’t old enough to know what a Frost Giant looked like, especially such a runtish one, or she hadn’t made the connection, though she would have no doubt been told stories. Small mercies.

“I did not know you had healing abilities,” was all he could think of saying.

“Nor did I.”

He moved to sit up and she did the same. His head hurt and his stomach ached from hunger, but it was nice to not wake up alone. “Well, thank you Ylva. I owe you my life.”

“Don’t go away again?” she whispered. “Please.”

The words pulled at his heart. He pulled her into a hug, and whispered, “I cannot promise you this.” He had not realised how attached to her he had gotten over the past few months. She wasn’t a replacement for his sons, but she soothed the gap they left.

She sighed, as if she had been expecting him to say that. “Well, don’t leave forever. Visit.”

Loki wondered what had happened to her father, given her adverse reaction to him leaving. Was he one of the soldiers slaughtered by Hela? Had he just not escaped Asgard, or was he one of the many stuck in another realm? He made a mental note to ask Eir when it was more appropriate.

“That, I can promise to try.”

She was pacified for the time being. Loki could now return to thinking about his bigger issues - he wondered how long it would be until he had regained his strength. Healing had never used up so much energy before, and he could usually regain power within a day. He wondered if Jotunheim could help him; that thought, of course, lead back to his most immediate problem. It is one thing to know that your brother is a monster in theory, and quite another to see it yourself.

“Ylva,” he spoke slowly, wary of the answer. “Did Thor see me when I was… blue?”

“No, you turned back to normal after I healed you. He came in afterwards, and he’s been here a lot, too.” Loki relaxed tenfold. One small mercy in a world of cruelty.

Before they could speak further, the door opened to reveal Thor, who was holding a pitcher of water and cups. Loki considered calling for _Yggdrasil_ to escape, but knew he was much too weak. To attempt teleportation now truly would be a death sentence; he wouldn’t get any further than the outskirts of Nyrlif, if he made it out of the branches. Instead, he smiled tiredly.

“Brother. You are awake.”

“It seems so.” Loki gently nudged Ylva. “You should go home. Your mother will be worrying.”

She looked between Loki and Thor, thinking. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “I’ll see you later? Don’t leave again.” Loki nodded, and she slid from the bed, sending Thor a small awkward courtesy before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Thor stared at Loki for another moment, eyeing him up. “You _left_.”

“To get the captain.”

“You didn’t say anything. You promised me you would.” He pulled a chair closer to the bed to sit.

“I did not think you would want me to return.”

Thor’s face crumpled into a mix of upset and anger. “Why-- why would you think that?”

“ _This is too much_ ,” Loki quoted back to him. He didn’t know how to arrange himself, so he broke out into a discordant smile, turning his head to the wall.

Thor was silent for a few beats. “I did not mean that, not like _that_.”

“Then in what did you mean it, exactly?”

“I didn’t mean it at all.”

Loki snapped his gaze back to Thor. “Yes, you did. That was your first reaction.”

“First reactions are not true reactions.”

“They are the truest reaction of all.”

Thor sighed again. “You are twisting the situation to suit you.”

“Only because the situation does not suit _you_.”

“What situation?” Thor asked. “As I understand it, your children and... partner are long since dead. There is no situation beyond what you bring.”

Loki was sure the world was spinning. “By the Norns, Thor, they are not dead.”

“You know that not.”

“I feel it.”

Thor put a hand on Loki’s neck, as he always had done when they were younger, before all the bad happenings. “Very well,” he said heavily. “But still, it is a phase that is behind you, aye? Nothing has to change.”

“It is not a--” Loki felt a surge of nausea, and he wasn’t sure if it was from his empty stomach or the unreality of what was happening. “It is a part of me. The woman who bore my two sons, she is always a part of me.”

Thor’s hand slipped away. He looked tired, Loki realised. Confused, ernest, but tired. He wondered if Thor had lost sleep over Loki being gone. Probably. Thor always was a worrier when it came to his brother. “I do not understand this,” he admitted quietly.

“There is much you do not understand.”

Thor carried on. “I do not understand why you would bring this shame upon yourself. You are always mocked, and you make it worse by doing strange things like this.”

“I did not intend for anyone to find out,” Loki said.

Thor stared at him. “Who else knew?”

“Brunnhilde, obviously.” Loki looked down, uncomfortable. “Odin and mother. Some Valkyries, I suppose.”

Thor stood up and kicked over Loki’s vanity. It crashed onto the ground in an empty cacophony of clatters and bangs.

“Our parents knew about this? And no one told me!” he roared.

“You were young,” Loki said. “As was I. Mother thought it best if you didn’t have to worry.”

Thor turned on him. “You could’ve told me,” he spat, pointing at him. “You could’ve told me! I am your brother!”

“You are the brother who told me not to use _seiðr_ in front of the Warriors Three!” cried Loki. “You are the brother who taunted me for reading rather than sparring! You are the brother who always had Odin’s love, and did _nothing_ to attempt to equalise our differences!”

“ _I am the brother_ ,” Thor said, quiet in his fury. “I am the brother who held you when you wept because of cruel words. I am the brother who told our parents lies so you were free to travel by yourself. I am the brother,” he hissed, “by the Norns, Loki, I am the brother who has loved you betrayal after betrayal, who stays at your bedside when you have overexerted yourself _again_ from magic. I have done nothing but accept, love, and fight for you!”

“You may have loved me and fought for me,” he spat darkly, “but you have never accepted me. You accepted a version of me who did not exist, Thor. You accepted the brother you didn’t have.”

Thor squeezed his eye shut and rubbed a hand over his face. “You look terrible. I will get somebody to bring you food,” he said tersely. “Perhaps we can speak of this another time.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Loki, I need to understand this,” Thor said desperately. “I need you to be honest, for once in your life.”

“You will never understand it.”

“Let me try, at least? Please, brother. This cannot be the thing that breaks us apart. It _cannot_.”

Loki just lay back down and turned his back on Thor. After a few moments, he heard his door open and close as he left. Loki curled up into himself and felt himself shudder as he began to cry.

 

* * *

 

 

At the knock on his door a while later, Loki quickly sat up casting what should have been an easy spell to clear up any evidence of his misery, but left his hands shaking. He hid them under the blanket and called for the person to enter. Bucky stepped into the room, carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a plate of bread.

Bucky glanced around curiously, his eyes lingered of the fallen over vanity, but then snapped to Loki, smiling. “Hey. Thor said you needed food.” He closed the door behind him and stepped closer, handing Loki the tray.

Loki immediately dug into the soup, too hungry to care about manners. He looked up at Bucky when the other man didn’t leave. “I thought you and your companions would have left at the earliest opportunity.”

“Steve wanted to catch up with the ah-- Avengers.”

“Mm,” he swallowed his mouthful, “Stark must be dancing with joy.”

Bucky chuckled and sat down in Thors’ vacated chair. “Thor - your brother? - told him we’re welcome here. They argued about deeds and some shit. Stark flew off.”

“All the better without his crude comments.” They were silent for a moment, Loki eating and Bucky just sat in silence. “Was Stark right? In what he said in Friggahof.” He knew it wasn’t his place to ask, but he had been inside Bucky’s head. It didn’t get much more personal than that.

Bucky licked his lips, absentmindedly running his human hand over the lines on his metal one. “Steve said the trigger words, nothing happened. I didn’t kill anyone else. So, I guess we’ll see.”

“Just because the trigger words are gone, does not mean that all of who you were for those years is too,” he thought to warn. “It should get easier, but I am unsure that Steve realises you will not be the same person you once were.”

“I know. He’s a dreamer,” he said with a lopsided smile. “I owe you one, Loki. If you need anything--”

“Steve has already offered to pay your debt.”

“Yeah, well, Steve would sell his soul if I asked him to.”

Loki thought about what he saw in Bucky’s mind. The love between them was something transcending family, friendship, or more. It was simply _there_ , real and beautiful, and Loki realised that one thing would always be true. “You would do the same for him.”

Bucky glanced down at his metal arm. “Already did. Followed him into war and ended the Winter Soldier. I’d say that’s the closest anyone can be to being without a soul.” There was no anger in his voice, he was just stating facts.

“Perhaps. But you would do it again.”

“Probably, but don’t tell Steve I said that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Come nightfall and the next day, Thor would occasionally check in on him, asking him tersely how he was doing, and attempt to establish some sort of dialogue. Loki would usually just give him short answers, taking food when he brought it, and ignore him until he left.

On the third day, Loki twisted around in his bed, disorientated, feverish.

“Loki?” Sigyn murmured sleepily. “Are you alright?”

He looked around. Sigyn lay wrapped up in blankets, his dark eyes peeking out in the darkness. Loki felt an unsettling wrongness about this, but couldn’t place what it was exactly that wasn’t right. It was so warm and comfortable that he didn’t really care, so he lay back down into the nest of sheets.

“I’m not sure,” Loki said quietly.

Sigyn placed a hand on Loki’s cheek, so his fingers curled up into his hair. He shuffled happily under the touch. “What is wrong?”

Loki tried to return the gesture, but his hand was blue. “Sigyn,” he said thickly, “I think that I’m a monster.”

Sigyn just smiled adoringly. “I always knew that, my love.”

Loki’s eyes widened, and in a snap, he had his shining metal hand wrapped around the throat of his helpmate, who choked and writhed in delicious surprise.

“Loki— _Please—_ “

Then, the scene fell away, and Loki fell too. He looked out into the dark space that was suddenly dotted with stars and constellations, which were incomprehensible in their splendour. _Please, anywhere but here._ He was freezing, so fucking cold, and then—

Hands grabbed him by the arm and dragged him through the snow as he looked up in complete delirium. That arm was then jerked to the side, and a man in freakish goggles loomed over him, the light behind giving him a sick imitation of a halo.

The man pulled off the goggles and it was Odin, who held a saw in one hand. “Now,” he said, in a thick accent that was not his own. “This won’t hurt a bit...”

Loki strained against his binds, but Odin carried on, regardless. Just as the blade touched the throbbing flesh of his shoulder, Loki woke with a jolt, confused and disorientated. He lifted his arms, which were both thankfully free, but he was chilled through and couldn’t make any sense of the darkness. He stumbled out of his bed and out of the door.

He ran through the throne room, and out into the freezing settlement, which was cooled after the sunset. He went to Friggahof and begun searching for what he needed; animal fat, and charcoal. Through his head ran the repeating melody; _I have to go, I have to go, I have to go._

He didn’t dare light a brazier, so he relied on touch and the faint moonlight coming from the ceiling window. He mixed fat and charcoal together and gathered a few stones, placing four in the shape of a diamond, with an additional stone under it to represent the head of an arrow. Then, he started drawing runes on his feet for walking Yggdrasil, his stomach for guts, his chest for centre of gravity, his palms for precision, and his heart, again, for goodwill to the universe.

As he just finished the symbol over his heart, the door slammed open.

“Loki, no!”

Loki turned around to see a distraught Thor, who came rapidly into the centre of the room to grab Loki’s arm, pulling him upwards.

Loki, of course, panicked. He dropped the bowl of fat and immediately sent out his thoughts to Yggdrasil: _To that beach in Tampico, to that beach in Tampico, to that--_

He felt an immense pressure on his chest and arm where Thor’s hand gripped it, but Loki could feel himself loose balance. He felt a surge of panic. They could end up anywhere, an ocean, a desert, or a tundra - anywhere on Midgard, because the branches did not go as the crow flies. They twisted and turned in mysterious ways; journeying could only be done through intuition, because like many skills written into the memory of muscles, thinking about it too hard rendered it impossible.

They tumbled out of Yggdrasil, and the first thing Loki realised is that he was, again, _falling._

“Thor!” he screamed.

He had a heartstopping moment where he scrambled against sharp rocks, twisting desperately as he tried to find purchase, but he was quickly jerked upwards by Thor’s hands around his wrist. Pulled onto safe land on his hands and knees, he let out a shaky breath and finally looked up to see Thor, thankfully with all limbs intact, and a confused, whiskered man in a big green jacket with a sheepdog at his side.

“Er… ‘ow do?” asked the man, keeping his dog close to his side.

“Hello,” Loki replied smoothly as though he wasn’t on his hands and knees with runes all over his body. “If I may ask, where are we?”

The man looked utterly befuddled at this. “You’re on Catbells.”

“What is that?” Thor asked, getting to his feet.

“It’s a fell,” the man said. At their equally confused look, he clarified. “A big hill or a small mountain. Are yous Londoners or somethin’?”

“Yes,” Loki said also standing, wanting the man to leave. How they had ended up in the complete _opposite_ direction to where he wanted to go was beyond him; Thor’s extra weight must have tipped them along the wrong path. “Yes, we are, and we have some important business to attend to, so if you don’t mind…”

“You have important business,” he man repeated dubiously, “on top of a fell, in leather keks?”

“Mortal, leave this place. I am having words with my brother,” Thor said, in his best kingly voice. The man shoot his head, waved a dismissive hand, and carried on down the slope muttering about damn Southerners.

Loki peered at the drop he would have suffered had Thor not caught him; it was a fairly steep decline littered with rocks and ferns, and lead some way down into a large lake, which had tiny green islands which broke up the surface on which the sun glinted. The whole area was mountainous, but in the distance, there were also fields and some sort of settlement.

Thor turned on Loki, furious. “By the Norns, Loki, you better have a good explanation for this.”

Loki didn’t really have one, other than the oppressive desire to escape and the images - nightmare? - so clear in his mind. That, he felt, was not something Thor would get. Loki’s silence just further enraged his brother.

“Did you mean to try and escape?” Loki just looked to the side. “Loki, I thought you were the smart one. You had no bags, you’re the weakest I have ever seen you - what did you really think you could do in this state?”

“I would rather leave on my terms than anyone else’s. I was merely speeding up the process.”

Thor growled in anger. “You are ridiculous and stupid, brother. _You need not leave_.”

“Nobody actually wants me there!” Loki cried. “I would be better off leaving, finding a place elsewhere--”

“Brunnhilde wants you to stay,” Thor said. “As does Ylva. If you cannot stay for me, at least stay for them.”

“And what if _I_ do not want to stay?”

By the looks of it, Thor hadn’t considered that possibility. He still powered on, always so sure of himself. “You do, I know you do. Why build Friggahof if you did not intend to stay?”

“I wanted something for mother, since her memorial on Asgard was destroyed,” Loki lied. Well, not so much lied, but told a half-truth. Yes, he wanted something to memorialise her, something that was _his_ , but he had not intended to leave it behind.

“You could have done that anywhere.”

“Nyrlif was convenient.”

Thor stared at him for a moment, and looked so sad and tired that Loki thought, _yes, finally, he’d got it through his head how heartless I am, how little I care, how I only want what is best for me_.

Thor placed a heavy hand on Loki’s shoulder, and just looked at him, eyes full of love. “You are a conundrum, brother. So smart, and and yet you cannot make sense of your own feelings.”

It was, in not so many words, the same was what Frigga had told Loki such a short time ago. _Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself_. Loki hated it because it was true.

He wanted to leave Nyrlif to escape his shame, but he so desperately wanted to stay. He wanted to be the lone wolf, with no ties or connections, but he wanted Ylva to look up to him, wanted Brunnhilde to share stories of battle over drinks. He wanted to accept his Jotun form, and he wanted to be as blasé as he acted, and yet, inside, he bubbled with hate and fury. He loved himself as a woman, but hated that others hated him for it; he wanted to be open, but knew that it could be the death of him.

“You are trapped,” Thor said. “I can help you get out.”

Loki scoffed, though it was shaky and didn't come out right. “Out from where?”

Thor tapped his forehead. “From here, brother. You must stop seeing the world through only one set of eyes, and begin to think about what others think of you.”

“Others think of me as a monster or _ergi_ or both,” Loki said bitterly.

“Do they?” Thor asked gently. “Or is it you who sees that, so you assume it is what everyone else thinks too?”

Loki felt like the ground actually had come away from him for a second, like he really was tumbling down the fell this time. He chewed on it for a moment, not wanting to admit that Thor might be onto something. “I didn’t know you were so wise, brother.”

Thor didn’t look embarrassed, but pleased. “I have been talking to a few people about this matter. It seems they have been talking about it, too.”

“I’m the talk of the town,” Loki said dryly, trying not to be too outwardly pleased that people were talking about him. He always did like a little bit of gossip.

“You are,” Thor said agreeably,  probably recognising Loki’s I’m-not-preening face. “People wonder why you do not spend more time in your Jotun form. Everyone knows that you are a Frost Giant, Loki. You commissioned _plays_ about it as Odin.”

Loki felt a slight flush at that. “It is one thing to be immortalised in fiction, and quite another for those characters to wonder the street. They would be horrified.”

“No, they would not,” Thor says, so sure of himself that it was rather naive.

“Yes, Thor, they would.” Loki sat down on the edge of the slop he nearly fell down with a heavy sigh. “I am the monster parents tell their children about at night.” He thought about the first time he realised that, speaking those same words to Odin who did nothing to tell him otherwise.

Thor was silent for a moment and then Loki felt him sit down beside him, looking out at the blue sky, the view over the hills and lake.

“Father should have taught us differently. He should not have told us such lies,” Thor said. Loki snapped his eyes to him, surprised. “How can Jotnar be unintelligent animals, if you are so smart? Perhaps if we were raised differently, you would not have reacted how you did, and if the Frost Giants were raised differently, then they would all be like you.” His speech was more unsure than usual, like a child hypothesising about things it had no clue about. It was endearing.

“I’m not sure that’s something worth praising.”

“Probably not,” Thor admitted, smiling a little in humour. “But what you are is better than the stories of what we were told about the Frost Giants.”

“You are not made, you are making yourself,” Loki murmured after a moment.

“What?”

“Something Brunnhilde said to me.”

Thor cracked a smile. “She is a lot wiser than she lets on.”

“As are you, brother.” Thor looked pleased. Loki just turned back to the view, looking upwards at the sky. “Remember when mother would take us to the Vanaheim clifftops, and we would make up stories about the clouds? And we would eat foods from the valley, and just spend the day together whilst Odin attended business at the court.”

“You would turn the clouds to look exactly like what I said they were,” Thor said wistfully. “I remember.”

“The good days, before father got to your head, and you decided _seiðr_ was only good when it’s in battle. When I can be _useful_.”

“That is not--”

“Yes, Thor, it is. Do you know _why_ Odin told you that I should be stopped from using magic?”

Thor looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

Loki laughed bitterly. “Odin told you that because he had just brought me back from my family, and he didn’t want me to practice _seiðr_ at all for fear I run off and make myself some other man’s whore. But he knew that _you_ would complain if I could no longer assist you at war - so he did the next best thing and told you that everyone was laughing at the _both_ of us. Me, for being so weak, and you for allowing it.”

Thor looked stricken. “He did not! The Warriors Three - they did laugh at you! It was not something imagined by father!”

“I have always been teased, yes, but did you not notice that it got worse? Perhaps you had your head too far up the skirts of the ladies of the court to notice,” he added coldly, as if Loki did not also have his head up skirts as well. It was very much besides the point.

Thor thought for a painful few moments. “I thought that was just because you were almost of age, and it was shameful for a man to by playing boy’s tricks. Father would never be so-- so _petty_ \--”

“Odin avoided telling me my true heritage until he _had_ to. And even the fact of my abduction - did he really think that he could permanently fix Jotun-Aesir relations by forcing a Son of Odin on the realm?” Loki laughed, throwing his head back, glancing at Thor, who was dumbstruck. “And _you!_ He tried to give you humility by banishing you to Midgard and stripping you of your powers, rather than just sitting you down and having a reasonable conversation! Always yelling, enraged. When did he _ever_ responded in anything close to a measured way?”

Thor looked dubious, and to be fair on him, it was a lot to take in all at once. He always had this infuriating blind spot when it came to family or those he loved; Loki was no exception. He still sat by his brother even after all the betrayal, and all the lies. He was like an addict who’s poison of choice was loyalty.

“It is much to think about,” Thor admitted. “I just hope it is not another lie of yours.”

“Ask Sif if she ever makes it to Midgard. She was likely privy to the same lies the Warriors Three were fed.”

Thor nodded. “I shall. In the meantime… Please, Loki. Stay in Nyrlif, you _are_ wanted there, even if the population is not as in love with you as you’d like,” Loki laughed a little at that. “It is as much your home as mine.”

“And if I want to leave?”

“I will not stop you, but please do not disappear completely.”

“I have already promised Ylva I would visit,” he said, by way of saying, _fine, if you insist_ , without giving Thor the pleasure.

“Do you want to leave?” Thor asked, the words so quiet Loki almost missed them over the wind.

“I do not,” Loki answered honestly.

Thor clapped his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “In that case, can you return us to Nyrlif? It is cold as shit up here.”

Loki winced. “I am afraid I am too weak to teleport again.” To his surprise, Thor just laughed. “Can you call Stark for one of his planes?” Loki suggested.

“He has not been responding to anybody’s attempt to contact him. You should not have brought Steve to Nyrlif without warning him - or me.”

“I did not plan on anybody catching us.”

“Loki,” Thor said, “you are _always_ caught in mischief.”

It wasn’t untrue.

Thor stood up, probably glad to be given an out to the difficult matters of conversation. “I will call Natasha. She will know what to do. Do you have a phone?”

“I do not.”

Thor groaned and glanced around. “Think the old man had one?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Winter is coming.”

Loki rolled his eyes, looking up to the sky as the rain fell down on them both. “It is.”

“Think the settlement is ready for it?” Brunnhilde asked, stepping beside him.

“In terms of sustainability or psychologically?”

“Both.”

“We have enough stores with Stark’s aid, and he’s implemented heating units. Not only that, we live inside a forest, should we need anything more. But I worry for their minds and bodies. Most of them will not be used to prolonged cold or the short days. I fear for productivity.”

“Could’ve just said ‘maybe’.”

Loki choose not to respond, instead just standing happily and letting himself get drenched. He’d always enjoyed it, for some reason, especially if he knew he had a fire and warm bed waiting for him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Brunnhilde said after a few moments.

“Did it hurt?”

“Ha ha, very funny. No.” She was silent for a moment longer, then finally carried on. Loki knew what was coming anyways. “I’m sorry about telling Thor about your family. When you said some on Asgard knew, I just presumed-- but anyway,” Loki looked across at Brunnhilde, who was staring at the lake, lost in her thoughts. “Do you remember me telling you about Arnnbjörga?”

“Your Valkyrior lover?”

“She was once sent on a mission - highly discreet. I was just a soldier at the time, way before she’d even _recommended_ me for the captain’s apprentice program, so I was never considered for it. When she came back, she said she’d been sent to retrieve a woman who would probably turn back into a man when he was to be taken. Then, a few weeks later, the second in line returns from his sabbatical.” She turned to him, and Loki was a mouse in front of a tiger. “Arnnbjörga said that they’d been ordered to kill whoever stopped them. And that there was a casualty.”

“Sigyn.” His throat felt dry; he hadn’t spoken his name aloud in so many years. “They turned my son into a wolf. A crazed, terrified wolf. And - but he didn’t mean to, you have to believe that - he killed Sigyn. Neither of them stood a chance.”

Loki still remembered that moment so vividly, in broken little beats. Vali’s teeth elongating as he twisted in pain, the unnatural transformation wrecking his body. Hands grabbing at Loki, pulling him away, his feet dragging in the green grass of Vanaheim. Sigyn’s sky-blue blood seeping into the stones outside of their peaceful homestead as his screams echoed through the forest. Narfi turning his back and sprinting away in terror. Him, sitting in the back of the carriage with clammy hands, but being hugged tightly by Frigga when they finally reached his first home. Odin’s heavy look; Thor’s unknowing delight at finally having his brother back.

“I’m sorry. If I had known at the time--”

“You would have done exactly as Odin ordered.”

Brunnhilde sighed. “Yeah.  Probably.” Loki couldn’t hate her for it, though. Sigyn was just one tragedy amongst thousands in Odin’s war-torn rule. He couldn’t hate a soldier for having orders.

“There’s a chance your kids are still alive. She never said anything about them.”

Loki laughed humourlessly. “The odd thing is that I don’t even know if I hope it to be true. If it is, what kind of a parent am I, if I never even looked for them?”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Odin wouldn’t let me,” Loki said, smiling coldly. “He kept me under his thumb. Made me attend every council gathering, every diplomat, every pointless agricultural meeting. Said that it was for my own good, so I could help keep Thor under control, but, of course, it was so obvious. And then,” said, dropping into a whisper in his shame, “I was a coward. I was scared. Terrified to find out if they’d died.”

“If you don’t know, they’re still alive,” Brunnhilde finished softly. “I understand. When I saw that Arnnbjörga had been hurt, lying face down in the mud, I didn’t want to check. I did, with all my heart, but I didn’t want it to be the end.” She had tears in her eyes, which she brushed away angrily. “I suppose we’re both pessimists.”

“We’re realists,” he insisted, though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

She laughed bitterly. “And what a shit thing that is to be - to understand the end has come before we even know it.”

They looked over the lake. The sun was beginning to set, though luncheon had only been a few hours ago. Loki’s breath clouded in front of his face as he temperature inched downwards. “Drinks?” Loki asked after a while.

“Drinks,” Brunnhilde said. She got to her feet and offered a hand to him, which he took.

They walked back through the village, cold and shivering. Loki felt exhausted, though he hadn’t really done much that day asides from Ylva’s lesson. Brunnhilde unlocked the door to her cabin and let Loki in.

Loki helped her out of her damp day armour. Under it, she wore leather trousers and a grey tank top with STARK INDUSTRIES written over the breast.

“Is that shirt Stark’s?” Loki asked.

“Oh, don’t,” she said. “It was one of his engineer’s.”

Loki conjured himself some simple black clothes, and Brunnhilde undid some of the straps on his side when his hands trembled with exertion.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly.

He turned around to face her, shaking. “I don’t know why using _seiðr_ uses so much energy,” he said, voice wobbling, fumbling with his arm guards. “It used to be so easy.”

She studied him, and took one of his hands in hers. She undid the buckles of his bracer and lifted it away from his frozen skin. “When you passed out from healing Barnes, you reverted to your Jotun form, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Where does the power for that enchantment come from?”

Loki thought about it. “I’m not sure. Odin, I assume.” And it dawned on him; if the force for the spell came from Odin, then his death must have shifted that draw.

“While Odin was alive, he had all the magic in Asgard to help him sustain it,” she theorised, lifting the other bracer away. “Perhaps, now the demand is on you and you alone. You need to eat more,” she added when he slipped off his soaked clothes. He’s spent too much time with soldiers to worry about modesty. She handed him his replacements and turned away to go pour them a drink.

He put on the new clothes, ignoring the comment. “But why didn’t the facade just... drop?”

“Do you ever let it?”

“How can I? It is like telling my body to stop breathing.”

“You can hold your breath, can’t you?” she said, handing him a drink as he slunk down into one of her armchairs.

He stared into it, feeling ill. “I’ve never been able to force it in the past,” he said meekly. “Not without the Winter Casket. I’ve never wanted to.”

“Are you or are you not supposed to be one of the best _seiðrmenn_ currently alive?”

Loki, the fool, rose to the challenge.

He looked up from his glass, then downed his drink in one. He’d need it for this. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees. He tried to settle his busy thoughts, and as he found his _seiðr_ deep inside of him, instead of drawing it forward, he throttled it. The feeling was immediate - as his stomach lurched, a violent chill settled over his skin, and he felt a stabbing pain in his left hand.

“Fuck!” Brunnhilde exclaimed. Loki looked down; he had crushed the glass in his hand, and byzantium blood was dripping out of his vibrant blue fist.

Loki scrambled to his feet in surprise, and she rushed towards him. He shoved her away violently. “Don’t touch my skin. It’ll burn you,” he hissed.

She stared at him helplessly as he cradled the shaking hand against his chest. He felt an incredible wrongness that persisted through his very being; he was the ugly monster who had wandered into a perfect world. He was self conscious, and had he looked like an Aesir, his cheeks would be flushed red.

She went to her kitchenette and got a rag to staunch the flow of blood. He was no stranger to injury, so he could ignore it well. Suddenly, a huge surge of energy flowed through him, bubbling up from within, and his eyes shuttered closed as he groaned. He stopped shaking; in fact, he felt more alert and powerful than he had in months. All the sounds of the town came bleeding in; some children were playing, shrieking in innocent joy, someone was riding a trotting horse, and Brunnhilde’s soft footsteps approached him. Her clothes shifted when she moved, and her breath caught for a moment before she huffed a laugh.

“I hope that’s not your O face,” she said wryly.

He opened one eye, observing her. “Are you not disgusted to see an Ice Giant in your home?”

“I’ve had far more exotic species than you in my home, Loki.”

“None as disgusting as I.”

“You still look like you.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Fuck off, you know what I mean. You look like the handsome princeling who’s bedded enough men and women to make a small army of it. Happy?”

“Keep going,” he purred, then broke out into a uneasy grin when she laughed.

“Seriously, though. You look fine. I’ve seen weirder.”

He unwrapped the rag and begun to draw out the shards of glass with his _seiðr_ , wincing slightly. “You’re truly not bothered?”

“Loki,” she said, looking him right in the eye. “I don’t give a fuck what you look like. You’re still you, alright?”

“Thank you,” he whispered, though he didn’t believe it.

She turned away to pour him another drink. “Feel free to stay in this form when your here if it helps regain your strength.”

“Truely? What if others find out?”

“What, they you’re in my quarters? Loki, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I fear you have already been caught here multiple times.” She sat back in the other armchair. “Do you know what the markings mean?”

“Markings?”

Brunnhilde gestured over her own face. “Have you not seen yourself? You’ve got lines over your face.”

Loki touched at his face, and could feel bumps over his cheeks and forehead. “I have never looked,” he admitted. Not even morbid curiosity had prompted him to.

He looked down at the uninjured hand, balancing his drink on the arm of the chair examined his nails, which looked as if they were blackened with bruises or infection. The thought made his bile rise. Across his forearms were lines that were raised like scarring tissue; the ceremonial sort that Vanaheimian tribal people would disfigure themselves with. He hated it. He hated this skin, and he hated that Brunnhilde would allow him to look so beastly in _her home._ How could she be so casual about this?

He snapped his hands back down to his lap, clutching them together tightly, one thumb picking at his nails. Brunnhilde was staring at him, her eyes jumping from his hands to his face when she realised he was looking at her.

“Mirror’s in the bathroom if you’re curious.”

“I am not,” he spat. He wanted to bring his Aesir form back desperately, but he would look like a coward for doing it. “Do your own research if you care that much about my skin marring. Not like you do anything else around here.”

Brunnhilde frowned. “What the Hel is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. We have our farmers, bakers, shopkeepers. But what do you? Sit here and _drink_.”

 _Oh fuck,_ Loki thought, _I’m at it again_.

Brunnhilde looked cold, now. “Always worked for me in the past.”

“This isn’t _Sakaar_. You can’t be the Grandmasters _whore_ to get by here - though perhaps Thor would be open to the idea, since it doesn’t seem to matter awfully to you who you’re bedding.”

“You fucked your way up, too,” she said, her voice getting louder.

“At least I was trying to do _something_. Rather than just become a scavenger. _Moping_ ,” he spat.

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

He smiled wickedly, then put on a facade of sorrow. “Wrong with _me_ ? Perhaps I have just realised all that you are good for; sex. And since you so easily accept monsters into your house, I worry to think what you have brought into your _bed_. Is there anything that can fill that insatiable gap was left so long ago by Arnnbjörga? She is so long dead that all of _Asgard_ has forgotten her name. So the question is, what is wrong with _you_?”

Brunnhilde slammed her drink down and stood up. Her voice was steady, quiet, and commanding. It was the voice of a general. “Get the _fuck_ out.”

Loki looked up at her and grinned widely. “Gladly.”

He stood and his Aesir form draped back over his skin, but he felt no more right for it. As he opened the door and was about to leave, he turned around to face her. She was slumped in her chair, and Loki already felt the sinking feeling of regret. He felt it before he’d even finished; before he’d even started. “I’ll tell Stark to put in in an order for of the drink you so love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fjórðungr - a Norse unit of weight, roughly 10lbs.
> 
> Hyrgard / Fire Giant colony - just something we made up :)
> 
> Utangard - a real Norse belief, which was opposed with Inangard.
> 
> "'ow do?" - Cumbrian slang: How do you do?
> 
> Catbells - A mountain in Cumbria, England, which is a really nice walk should anyone be in the area. "Fell" is, funnily, routed in a Norse word: Fjall. I'm actually from Cumbria (hence the strange choice of place) and Tillthewheelsfalloff is a dirty, dirty Southerner.
> 
> Keks - Cumbrian slang: trousers
> 
> "Are yous Londoners or somethin'?" - Probably doesn't need explaining, but: Are you (plural) from London?"
> 
> Arnnbjörga - made up name, since Brunn apparently didn't have a female love interest in the comics. Get on it, Marvel! She's intended to be the blonde woman who steps in front of a blade for Brunn in the flashback in Ragnarok.


	4. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late, but it's 23k words long. You know how it is.

 

Loki was panting, bleeding, and leaning against the wall under the window when Thor found him.

“Loki? I heard a ruckus - are you—”

Thor stopped when he saw Loki. His room was a catastrophe of wood fragments, strewn about clothes, and curios from inside of his vanity. It was shameful, piercingly so, but Loki barely had the energy to move. All he could do was sit and smile grimly up at his brother.

“As you can see,” Loki said calmly, waving his hand generally in the direction of the chaotic destruction, “all is as is usual.”

Thor made a _tsk_ sort of a noise and padded his way through the mess. He was barefoot and dressed in a linen top and leather trousers. Loki wanted to sneer or tell him to leave, but that was only for the sake of his shot dignity.

Thor eased himself down onto the ground next to Loki. “What happened?” he asked gently.

“Fate,” Loki said with a faint grin. “Whenever something is coming close to even the semblance of order, I ruin it.”

“What have you done?”

Loki took in Thor’s grave look. “Nothing to your precious Nyrlif.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

“Liar,” Loki said half-heartedly.

“Isn’t that my line?”

Loki chuckled, but then his smile faded. “I argued with Brunnhilde.”

Thor made a sympathetic noise. “Over what?”

“It matters not, but I implied some… less than savoury things about her.”

“I thought that was run of the mill for your two.”

“It is,” Loki admitted. “But you know how I’m really quite good at knowing what people are insecure about?”

“Yes,” Thor said slowly.

“And how I’m also really rather good at using said insecurity to craft insults?”

“Tell me you did not,” Thor said, looking just every so slightly horrified.

“I did.” Loki sighed. “I essentially said she was a good for nothing whore who would sleep with anyone, and that she was still letting the tragedy that befell her dead lover affect her relationships to this day. That last bit is perfectly true, but people generally don’t like to be told things like that.”

Thor squeezed his eyes shut. “Norns, Loki, why on Earth do you do things like this?”

“I don’t know,” Loki said, his voice dropping down in volume. His chest hurt from sadness, and a sense of having lost something that he couldn’t put a name on. “I know I shouldn’t. I know while I’m doing it that I shouldn’t. But I do it anyways.”

“Chaos calls to you,” Thor said gently. “It always has.”

“I’m sick of it,” Loki whispered miserably. “I’m sick of all of this.”

Thor wrapped an arm around Loki, drawing him in to his shoulder. Loki allowed it, became malleable to be touch and resting his head on his shoulder. It had been so long since any true affection had been given by Thor, or, really, by anyone else asides Ylva. That was his fault, too.

“What are you going to do?” Loki could feel Thor’s voice through where his chest rumbled with it. It was so achingly familiar, and Loki had completely forgotten what it felt like. They were never overly affectionate in any soft kind of way, but in the low, quiet hours of a battle lost or even just a bad day, an embrace would not be unusual.

“I’m going to fix my furniture.”

“I meant about Brunnhilde.”

“I’m well aware, but I can’t just walk in and apologise.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…” He shifted a little, and didn’t know how to go on without really seeming like a child.

“Embarrassing,” Thor finished for him. “Brother, a lack of humility is not a good look. And I should definitely know.”

“I’m not sure,” Loki said. “I thought you pulled off entitled manchild of a Prince rather well.”

“Yes, well, we all make bad fashion choices when we are younger.”

Loki grinned suddenly. “The wings,” he said, laughing. “Do you remember that time you asked for bigger wings on your helmet?”

“Loki, shut up,” he said, giving Loki’s head a little whack, but he was laughing too. “Yes, I remember. And maybe remind you how much bigger your _horns_ got? It looked like you had grown antlers.”

“To be fair, those little finger-sized horns on my original headpiece looked ridiculous too.”

“They were cute,” Thor insisted jokingly. “Like a baby goat.”

“I don’t think baby goat was what I was going for,” Loki replied, “but it’s better than having an  albatross perched on my head.”

Thor laughed loudly at that. “They weren’t _that_ big. At least I didn’t look like a cow.”

“Cow? Thor, for the love of all that is good, get some new insults. Cows don’t even have horns! Bulls do!”

“Ahh,” Thor said, “so _that_ is why that cow I tried to milk only had one teat.”

They both burst into laughter that went on so long Loki’s stomach ached by the end of it.

 

* * *

 

“Your highness.”

Loki looked across to Eir as the woman sat down on the large rock beside him. “As I have told you many times, call me Loki.”

“It seems improper,” she said, her eyes glinting in that knowing way the eyes of mother’s did. Her expression then settled into something more sincere. “Ylva is worried for you.”

“There is no need.”

“You have not had a single lesson with her for two weeks.”

“She is proficient enough that the other _seiðkonur_ can handle her lessons.”

“Perhaps, but she wants you.”

Loki chuckled darkly, and wished it wasn’t true. He said, “she should choose a better man than me to idolise.”

Eir laughed and Loki turned to her, wondering what was amusing. “When it first came out what had happened to you - what you did to Jotunheim - I would have agreed. But I think that then you were little more than a confused boy who’s anger was left unchecked. Seems to be a trait of the Odin household,” she added wryly. “I would like to say that you are different, but I didn’t know you then; still, I can’t imagine the man in front of me going on a temper-tantrum rampage in allied territory.”

Loki tried to keep his face emotionless and chewed on that for a few moments. He barely recognised the self who tried to destroy Jotunheim. It seemed like some distant fever dream that was almost, but not quite, grounded in reality. He wasn’t proud of it, but really, what was he proud of?

He couldn’t figure out a good answer to Eir’s comments, other than a meek “I suppose,” and he just changed topics to ask the question he’d wanted to for a while now. “What happened to Ylva’s father? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Eir tensed, turning away from Loki. “He was not a nice man,” she said lowly. “He didn’t make it off Asgard. Don’t say this to Ylva, but good riddance.”

“I suppose that’s why she--” Loki cut himself off looking around, feeling magic sizzling in the air. That was _not_ normal. He stood up, tilting his head as he felt for it, trying to figure out what it was. Whatever the magic was, or wherever it came from, it was strong and unfamiliar.

“Loki?” Eir stood beside him, looking about worriedly, but he knew she couldn’t feel it. How could she not feel it? It was _suffocating_ , sharp, and the air--

And then the lake began to freeze. It began at the shore close to them, but spread out towards the middle. There was only one race of beings he knew of that could make the air this cold so quickly. He turned to Eir to see her staring at the lake, eyes wide, her breath visible.

“Run back to the village, tell Thor, Brunnhilde, _anybody_ to organise the militia,” Loki hissed, “assemble the Avengers. Run!” Eir nodded and took off back through the forest.

The militia wouldn’t be ready for this. They’d only begun training a month ago under Steve and Bucky, since they’d decided to stay. Loki was grateful for that now. Every additional day in training could be a life saved, but he knew the odds were stacked against them if this was going to turn into a real battle.

Only a few metres away on the lake, the air begun to shimmer. The space seemed to ripple and bend, then rip apart, opening up to a warped darkness. Loki stood up tall, turned his day armour into a more robust battle armour, and stepped into the shadows.

The portal stopped growing, and from it a figure stepped out. It’s skin was a rich blue, with lines and marks that stood out like scars, marring it’s skin. And there it was; a Jotun. It stood a good foot taller and broader than Loki himself - knowing he’d need more energy, he let the Aesir mask fall.

Loki watched as other Jotnar continued to stream from the portal, getting into a formation behind the first one, who was only clothed to the waist, but his chainmail and leather leggings were encrusted with clear jewels. A great many more kept on pouring out, which started at a reasonable amount, but was beginning to grow into an amount to worry about.

It spoke in a low, rasping voice that sounded almost painful. “Remember, leave no Asgardian alive. If you see Loki, bring him to me.”

It turned back and begun to walk across the iced lake, the army growing by the moment, now a hundred or so. He obviously couldn’t let them reach Nyrlif; he needed to stall. So, after taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the shadows and onto the rocky beach.

“I can help you out with one of those.”

The Jotun grinned widely and opened his arms in a startlingly _normal_ motion. “Loki Laufeyson,” he said, speaking the word with a lighthearted venom that reminded Loki of himself. “About time we finally meet.”

“I’d repeat the sentiment, but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

“My name is Byleistr Laufeyson.”

“Laufeyson,” Loki repeated, trying to keep his cool facade going to smother the shock. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I fear your plan of destroying Asgardians will not make for a pleasant family reunion.”

“Ah, Loki, you will not be present to witness it,” said the beast, and it was surprisingly articulate. Loki had a strangely disorentating moment, like a horse had just asked him how his day was going. Of course, he had spoken to Laufey who was understandable enough, but Laufey was nothing close to this Jotun, who spoke with the articulation of a scholar. He had assumed Laufey was an outlier, hence how he rose to power; he wondered if it was a trait in Laufey’s bloodline, or if more Jotnar than his blood father were as intelligent.

Ice stalagmites rose from the ground in giant sharp spikes, breaking him out of his pondering, so Loki danced out of the way and focused his _seiðr_ on them breaking them into pieces.

“Well, that’s rather rude,” Loki said, trying to keep the conversation going. _Just a little bit longer._ “What did I ever do to you?”

“You killed our father. You attempted to destroy Jotunheim with the Bifrost,” growled Byleistr. “For these crimes you must pay.”

“Ah. Well, it took you long enough. I killed Laufey many cycles ago.”

“You are not an easy person to find. Perhaps that is because you are so small.”

Loki didn’t really know what to make of that - whether to laugh or be offended, or perhaps both. It's not like he _wanted_ to be taller than he already was, but part of him thought that if he was going to be a Frost Giant, he might as well be a decent one. He glanced back at the growing army and knew Byleistr was only letting Loki stall to increase the size of his army. _Come on, Eir!_ he thought desperately.

Aloud, he said, “as I’ve been told, but I see now that all of the Laufey line is rather runtish.”

Byleistr gave a rumbling chuckle. He was only a little bit smaller than his counterparts - it was a reach of an insult, and it was clearly not the angle to attack him from. “You know not of what you speak.”

“Perhaps not. But I do know that you have vastly underestimated this planet, and the Asgardians. You cannot take them.”

“They are no longer under Odin’s protection. When I take it, I will be King of Jotunheim.”

“As I said, it has been years since I killed Laufey. Shouldn’t you be king already?”

Byleistr tilted his his head. “I am not your only sibling.”

“So you are a kinslayer,” Loki said casually.

“As are you,” snapped Byleistr, without missing a beat. Ah. _That_ was the sore spot.

“Regardless,” Loki said, changing tracks quickly. That was the trick; jump from one thing to another so they wouldn’t realise how long they’d been talking uselessly. “My father may be in Valhalla, but Midgard is still protected. Leave now whilst you still have a chance.”

Thor took the moment to finally stumble onto the scene, staring at Loki. “Wow, you--” He steeled himself for Thor’s anger, but Thor just stared for a few beats, then casually said, “you look different.” He then addressed Byleistr, his skin beginning to dance with finicky blue electricity. “As my brother says, you will take Midgard over the corpses of Asgard.”

Byleistr grinned slowly, like he was taking joy in the action itself. “Oh, Odinson. It’ll be my pleasure.”

Loki flipped his knives in his hands, and widened his stance. As the sky roared and cracked with thunder, the army of Jotuns began to sprint. There was a rumbling from the ground as the militia burst front the trees, headed by Brunnhilde, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky.

He drove his daggers into a Jotun who came towards him, and used _seiðr_ to drag them through it and into it’s shield-brother a foot away, spilling guts and entrails onto the shore. He called them back, then caught Thor’s eye after he’d just electrocuted another of their foe.

“See you on the other side, brother,” Loki yelled across the din of the battle, and he ducked to the side, hiding in the shadows.

For a moment, from the sides, the chaos almost blinded him, then his eyes snapped to a bolt of electricity that jumped to one unfortunate Jotun, literally frying it. Amongst the flashes of white and blue, a metal arm was glinting in the midsts of it all. Arrows flew from the tree line, seeking enemies true and sharp, and he looked up to see Barton crouched on a branch. Beside him sat Ylva, her eyes narrowed on the fight, her body practically trembling with effort, and he watched as a tree fell and landed on a gathering of Jotnar.

The loud crash of the tree snapped him back to his task. He had to close that portal. With the barest hint of thought, he slipped into Yggdrasil’s branches, the pressure bearing down on him for a moment, then lifting as he opened his eyes to a spot a little more concealed and away from the mess of the battle.

He felt the air around him change and ducked just in time for the ice bolt to shoot over him. He spun to see Byleistr looking right at him. Loki looked towards the portal, Jotuns still streaming from it, far too quickly. Then back to Byleistr.

Oh _dear_.

Loki steeled himself as Byleistr sprinted the short distance between them, and tackled him to the ground, dropping and rolling; he felt them tumble onto the ice in their fight. Loki slid backwards, scrambled to hands and knees, and then lept to the side to avoid another shard of ice shooting towards him. Loki threw back a dagger of his own, and got to his feet as Byleistr dodged it.

But Byleistr’s attack came again, and again, and again. He circled around Loki like a predator as he threw back his own helpless attacks. It was fast becoming overwhelming, and as Loki overbalanced from the speed of it and landed on the surface of the lake, he had a sudden moment of clarity.

He slammed his fist down onto the ground and the ice below him _cracked._

The spiderweb of broken fragments converged into one deep rip, which water bubbled out of like a bleeding wound. It sped towards Byleistr, and circled him, creating a perfect ring. Then, with a deep boom and Byleistr’s last _are you kidding me?_ look, he was dunked into the murky lake.

It gave Loki the scant seconds he needed to gather his energy. As Byleistr scrambled out of the hole, sputtering, onto his hands and knees, Loki conjured enough daggers that he lost count. Then with a great push, he sent them speeding towards the monster.

And then, they froze in mid air, inches away from Byleistr’s outreached hand. His grin was wide and crazed, and Loki’s stomach dropped. Of course - how else would they make the portal if they didn’t have a _seiðr_ wielder among them?

“Oh, Loki,” he said, as the knives spun in the air, agonisingly slowly. “You and I, we could be so much more than _this_.”

He nodded over to the battle, which waged on like he was watching it from the cheap seats of a theatre. It seemed like fiction; it seemed fake. How could this _happen_?

“Think about it, Loki. with Asgard gone, Jotunheim’s army rules supreme. It’s only be a matter of time before we had all of the Nine in the palms of our hands. You could be apart of it. You could be apart of the glorious Laufeyson _empire_.”

Loki’s gaze snapped back to the monster, who had rose slightly, kneeling now. The daggers were all pointed straight at him. He began to walk in an arc that would circle around Byleistr.

“You would truly give me a place in your command?”

“You would by me equal. Not in Odinson’s shadow, not squandering your talents on two-hundred Aesir _scum_ ,” he spat. “You would sit at your rightful place in the Hall of Ymir, feasting on the flesh of your fallen enemies."

It was… tempting. The call of chaos - just to _see_ what would happen. Loki could be in his Jotun form all the time, and he could draw power from Jotunheim. He’d be back to his old unstoppable self, and would finally have a throne. But he wouldn’t be able to see Thor or Brunnhilde or any of the rest of them ever again; if he did, it’d certainly be in battle, where he would be obliged to at least _attempt_ to kill them.

Was he really still the man who ached for a throne?

Loki walked round to the other side of the jagged hole in the ice. As he walked, the daggers reorientated themselves so they were always trained on him. When he came to a halt, Byleistr finally turned too, standing up carefully.

“So,” Byleistr said, his chin lifting proudly. “What do you say, brother?”

Loki straightened himself out and spoke clearly, surely. “I have a brother, and he is not you.”

Byleistr didn’t deflate or nod defeatedly. He just smiled again, that wicked look back in his crimson eyes. “As you wish, Odinson.”

The blades came hurtling towards him. Loki had anticipated that, and gave all his energy into a shield. It wasn’t enough. He felt a searing pain in his shoulder, and he looked down to see his own dagger jutting out of him. He crumpled to the ground.

There was an explosive, high pitched scream behind him, and just one dagger stayed in the air whilst Loki let the others clatter onto the ice in surprise. It went slicing through the air the way it came, twisting to reorient itself, and right into the chest of Byleistr.

The King of Jotunheim crumpled onto the ice, unmoving.

Loki turned to see Ylva, her hand outstretched. He tugged the blade from his skin, feeling a dizzying wave of nausea, before it settled down and his magic wove through it to stem the bleeding and offset the damage until he could properly see to it.

“It’s not safe here,” he said, feeling proud and worried and like the adrenaline in his blood was going to be enough to keep him going for a million years. But he wanted to rest his forehead on the ice, too, for just a moment. “Go back to the settlement.”

“‘Thank you, Ylva, for saving my life.’ ‘Oh, It’s no problem, blue-Loki, anytime!’” Ylva muttered, cycling through a deeper, dumber voice, before going back to an over exaggerated version of her own. She bent down, and was about to place her hand over his wound, before he stopped her.

“Don’t touch my skin!”

“Yes, I got that.” She kept her hands on top of the leather armour, and he felt the magic streaming through him. The pain was alleviated immediately, whilst a strange feeling of pins and needles worked through his shoulder.

He took a moment to look towards the fight. Both Aesir and Jotun were on the ground, red and rich purple blood running into each other, whilst those still standing battled for their lives. The portal was still open, so perhaps Byleistr wasn’t the only person keeping it going. Steve and Bucky were fighting together, moving around each other, but Bucky’s movements were getting sluggish. He was whipping his head around, and he suddenly seemed to stop, staring at his metal arm as though it was the first time he has seen it.

“Bucky?” Loki heard Steve shouting when he noticed Bucky’s erraticism. Steve grabbed Bucky’s head, holding him close. “Bucky! Stay with me! We need you--”

Then, Steve’s startling scream of pain echoed over the frozen lake. A blade of ice protruded from his stomach, the blood splattering onto Bucky and spilling onto the floor.

With an animal roar, Bucky drove two daggers into the beast that dare touch his love, and hauled Steve over his shoulder before the man could so much as collapse.

Loki’s felt a jolt of worry, but his attention was then drawn to the sky, where that son of a whore Doctor Strange was floating above them, occasionally popping out of existence with multiple Jotnar and returning moments later alone. Loki wondered for a moment when he arrived.

Thor and Brunnhilde, in another corner, fought together as though they had done it millions of times before. Thor was sparking, his eye glowing, electrocuting Jotnar around him, whilst Brunnhilde was a raging storm of short swords.

Loki looked back to the portal in time to see a small group of Jotnar had come into formation, and were sprinting towards the two of them.

“Ylva, stop!” Loki ordered. “Get out of here!” He struggled to his feet and stood in front of Ylva.

Energy blasts hit the ground between Loki and the Jotnar, stopping them in place.

“Loki, please tell me this wasn’t you?” Stark asked as he landed on the ground, facing the downed Jotnar.

“It was not.”

“Thank God, I really didn’t want to have to deal with _that_ fallout. Can you close the portal?”

Loki looked across to it. It was an ugly rip in the air, but didn’t seem to be growing at all. “I can try.”

“Do it. Rhodes, Vis, we could use you this way.” He shot at a couple of stray enemies. “We’ll keep them off you. FRIDAY, when the suits get here, keep them in this area, and don’t let any escape.”

Loki conjured leather gloves on himself and took Ylva’s arm, leading her towards the portal. Standing a few feet from it he took Ylva’s hands in his covered ones.

“I thought you wanted me to get out of here,” she said, quiet rather than tetchy as the weight of what was happening fell on her.

“I do, but I am not strong enough to close this alone. Just do what you can to close it,” he told Ylva.

“ _How_?” Loki looked down at her. She wasn’t the timid mouse she used to be, but she wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready for war, for entrails in the mud and bloody blades. Unfortunately, no one was ever really ready for the realities of battle before they descended. You could only hope that when it came to it, your shield-brothers could better hide the fear that made you tremble.

“Follow your instincts,” he said, looking right into her dark eyes. They were so, so young. “You can do this, Ylva. We can do this together.”

He squeezed her hand and let his _seiðr_ rise past his skin. He pictured it in his head; _a perfect sky without that tear, a perfect sky without that tear, a perfect sky without that tear._

He felt Ylva’s _seiðr_ beside his own, so much stronger than he had realised. She was determined and desperate, and it made her _seiðr_ unfocused. Her hands tightened on his and she let out a small gasp, wavering.

“Shit! Thor!” Loki heard Stark shouting. He opened his eyes long enough to watch the stream of lightning hit a line of Jotuns to the portal.

Loki looked back at Ylva, she was looking at the constant stream of Jotnar with a look of dread. “Ylva,” he hissed. Her eyes flicked to his. “I need you to concentrate.”

“There are too many,” she said, full of fear. “They’re going to win!”

“Which is why we need the portal to close. Once it’s closed, we’ve _won_ . We’ve got our militia, and the Avengers, who managed to beat _me_. But _this_ , this up to us and I know you can do it. Together, we can do it.”

“I’m tired,” she wailed.

“Just a little longer,” he promised her. “Then you can rest, alright?”

She looked down and nodded, just as Doctor Strange landed lightly on the ice next to them.

“Want a hand?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Loki spat. “Don’t tell Eir I said that,” he added to Ylva. “Take my hand.”

Strange looked at Loki’s offered hand, then back up at Loki.

Loki growled in frustration. “It converges our energy and keeps us on one track, rather than splitting us. Aren’t you supposed to among Midgard’s best magicians? _Ylva_ knows this, and she’s a _ch--_ ”

“Fine.” He grabbed Loki’s hand and his eyes shuttered closed, as did Loki’s. The other man’s _seiðr_ wasn’t at all like Loki’s or Ylva’s, but felt almost youthful and new, whilst theirs tapped into the ancient interconnectedness of Yggdrasil.

He pictured the perfect sky again, the portal closing, sewing closed the wound in reality. He felt it waver, and the hum of its energy wavering for a moment. Strange’s energy felt honed in to the portals, like it was something they’d come across before, perhaps by another name.

Their _seiðr_ wove through the portal, and Loki gave the pull to draw it close. Ylva’s hand was shaking, and she was beginning to waver. He wasn’t feeling great either; between the partially healed stab wound and the incredible draw on his power he felt light, and not in a good way.

He opened his eyes. The portal was half its original size - barely big enough to fit a Jotun through.

Then, through the haze of his _seiðr_ , he saw Byleistr stagger up to the portal. He looked right at Loki, pulled the dagger out of his chest, and, shorter than his peers, stepped right through, whilst Loki was powerless to even think about stopping him.

With a outraged cry, Loki gave what he hoped would be a final push. The hum of energy rose to a strained peak, multiple discordant frequencies creating a piercing sound, which grew louder and louder until the ice vibrated with it under his feet.

Then, finally, the edges touched each other, and it was done.

He watched Ylva collapse backwards, eyes rolling backwards as she fell. He cradled her head in his hands before it hit the ground, pulled her into his arms, and let the darkness swallow him whole.

 

* * *

 

Everything ached and Loki wanted nothing to do with it.

“Loki?” Loki tried to ignore Thor’s voice. “Brother, I know you are awake.”

“I am not.”

“Loki,” Thor sighed.

After a moment, Loki forced his eyes open. The sunlight felt as though it was piecing his vision and he immediately closed them again, wincing. “I repeat my earlier statement.”

He heard Thor moving around and behind his eyelids the room darkened. He opened his eyes again, looking around and immediately recognising Friggahof. He lay in a bed by a window, which was now hidden by a curtain. Many of the other beds were taken. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I went a few rounds with the Hulk. Again.”

“Good thing Banner is away, or else Hulk may not have been able to tell you and the army apart.” Thor chuckled obnoxiously while Loki stared. “You did well, brother. You and Ylva.” Loki sat up, forgetting his pain. His eyes darted around, seeking the young girl. “She is okay,” Thor told him hurriedly.

Loki relaxed, easing back down onto his bed with a groan. “Where is she?”

“Likely eating. She has been awake for a few hours and begun to heal as soon as she felt she had the energy, with the help of the _seiðkonur_. Although, she has been by your bed many times.”

“Why am I here? Why not in my own quarters as before?”

“Many Jotnar reached the settlement, there has been much damage including Hunningard. Plus, Brunnhilde believed the power in this building would help in your healing.”

Loki relaxed more so at the mention of Brunnhilde. If she was well enough to be making comments on where to put him, she must be truly alright. He didn’t want their last conversation to have been an argument.

“There is one other thing,” Thor said hesitantly. Loki flicked his eyes to Thor. “Byleistr escaped. He left through the portal before you were able to close it.”

“I know,” Loki sighed. “I saw him do it, but I couldn’t stop closing the portal, else our efforts all be wasted. We’ll just have to prepare for another attack. For now, however, I am hungry.”

“Of course. I will bring you some food.”

Once Thor left the building Loki took a moment to look around at the beds. He saw Steve unconscious, with Bucky unsurprisingly sat at his side, and one of the _seiðkonur_ bustling around, checking both of their injuries. Natasha was getting a bloody bandage on her leg changed by Barton. No other Avengers were in the hall, but the beds were full of Asgardians in varying states of consciousness.

“Loki!” Ylva shouting his name excitedly caught his attention, he turned as she climbed up to sit on the end of his bed. For how grown up she could be, she was in equal parts a real child sometimes.

Loki smiled, amused at her actions. “Ylva. I’m glad you are well.”

“And you! I’ve been worried about when you’d finally wake up. You only just stopped being blue an hour ago.”

“That is not surprising. I was weak before the fight.”

“Does making yourself look like you do now use energy?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you stay this way?”

Loki frowned. “Did you not recognise what I truly am?”

“Well, yes. A Frost Giant, like those attacking us.”

“... Exactly.” Loki waited for her to make the connection, but she just shrugged.

“But you were helping us. Which _obviously_ means not all Frost Giants are bad.”

The logic was irrefutable, but oversimplifying to the point it made Loki want to groan. “My very _skin_ will hurt you, Ylva.”

Ylva mirrored his frown. “So can Korg’s. He’s sharp, but he’s still good.”

He rolled his eyes. “You are too young to understand,” Loki said, wishing people would _get it_ and just stop living in a fairytale world where he was excused for his crimes because he was at least trying to be a better man now.

Ylva scoffed. “I’m old enough to help you out in a big scary fight but too young to understand that you are not one of those monsters I was against? You’re actually a good person. But you don’t get it, and you’re, like, old, so I guess I won’t understand until I’m older than you are now.”

“Ylva, you are already wise beyond your years,” Thor said returning with a tray of soup and bread. Ylva grinned at the praise.

Loki took the tray, unsure how to react. “You didn’t look happy to see me in that form,” he said to Thor, then stuffed his face before he could say anything worse.

“It was the first time I saw you like that, forgive me for being surprised. Besides, we were about to be attacked, I was not going to be smiling.”

“You used to smile before a battle.”

“I have changed since those days. We all have.” Loki made a noise around his food in response. Thor sighed. “Ylva you should rest, you have done more than expected of you.”

“I’m fine,” Ylva argued around a yawn.

“Take it as an order from your king.”

Ylva frowned but nodded. “Fine. Bye, Loki, don’t be an idiot.” She climbed off the bed and wandered from Friggahof.

“Shouldn’t she curtsy?” Loki asked.

“It’s been a long day,” Thor said, smiling fondly. “I’m sure she’ll remember next time. You should also rest after you have eaten, though. If you are feeling well enough, we shall be having a gathering in a few hours to celebrate our victory and those who have passed onto Valhalla. It will be good to have you there.”

 

* * *

 

Loki stepped out from Friggahof and paused in shock at the destruction around him.

Hunningard was in the worst shape by far. It seemed to have caved in at the front, although the side where his bedroom was looked mostly intact, so hopefully his things were salvageable. Though, this most important things he kept in his pocket, so it didn’t matter to him too much if it was destroyed. Many other buildings had been damaged with deep cracks running through them. It took him a moment, but he realised that freezing the wood then thawing it in such a short period of time had caused it to expand and crack. Even if they were, on the surface, salvageable, the structural issues could mean they’d have to be knocked down regardless.

He spotted Ylva and Eir walking towards the community hall, talking, but Ylva saw him and stopped.

“Loki!”

He smiled thinly at them, cast a spell to change his clothes and strode towards them as quickly as his still-aching body would let him.

“How are you feeling, Loki?”

“I am well thank you. You got the militia quickly. Well done, Eir.”

She shook her head, embarrassed. “It wasn’t me. Black Widow responded immediately when I told her. It’s she you should be thanking.”

Loki just smiled and was about to make some comment about humbleness, when Ylva butted in with a stage-whisper, “accept the Prince’s compliment, ma!”

Eir laughed. “Fine. Thank you, Prince Loki.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, grinning too.

They reached the doors of the community hall, which appeared to be more or less intact asides from one window, which was boarded over. A miracle in and of itself, given that it was one of the largest buildings in Nyrlif.

The very last thing he expected when he stepped inside was for someone to yell “Loki and Ylva are here!” everybody to turn, and promptly start applauding.

Loki stood in the doorway, frozen, eyes darting around for Thor, but was surprised to find him also applauding with a _I’m your brother, so I’m definitely going to make fun of you a little bit for this later_ sort of grin.

“Well done!” Stark exclaimed, putting a hand on his back and leading him further into the hall. Stark wasn’t wearing his actual Iron Man suit, but was wearing a standard Midgardian suit, which was burgundy and gold. Privately, Loki thought it looked a little kitsch.

“I-- what?”

“You got the portal closed. I did not fancy taking a nuke in another one.”

Loki was a little bit startled and flustered, and he hadn’t even combed his hair before he came out - not to mention he didn’t have any of his wax. Stark drew him to a banquet table which was laden with alcohol and food.

“Pick your poison.” Loki grabbed the skull bottle of absinthe, since it was the only thing he recognised, and there was immediately a sword at his throat. He grinned and tilted his head up, glancing to the side.

“Brunnhilde.”

“Loki,” she said coldly, all bitchily like before they really knew each other. It was strange.

Stark glanced between them. “Is this a sex thing? No sex things in the community hall, please. This is a family-friendly environment, and I won’t have sex things in my family-friendly party celebrating the brutal, _brutal_ killing of an army of Jotuns. This is America, guys.”

“Stop prattling, Stark,” Loki practically begged.

“It’s not prattling. It’s a commentary on--” the blade suddenly found itself trained on Stark’s throat, and he promptly shut up. “Righty. I’ll be… somewhere else.”

With that, he excused himself. The air between the two of them was excruciatingly awkward.

“You look like shit,” Brunnhilde informed him.

“You don’t look great yourself,” Loki said dryly. She had a cut that travelled down her cheek and jaw where it stopped, but was resumed on her chest and  disappeared under her day armour. She also had a black eye and a bandage on one arm.

“I look badass,” Brunnhilde replied. “But the cuts probably won’t scar,” she said, a little sadly.

“How do you know?”

She glanced up at him. “I _rarely_ scar.”

Loki dropped his eyes to the ground and shuffled his feet. “Brunnhilde, I…”

“How many times are you going to collapse from magic before you realise that you need your friends, and you can’t go round saying stupid shit like what you did because your big baby feelings are hurt?”

He was taken aback by that. She was just looked at him cooly. “If this apology goes well… that will be the last time in a long time.”

She nodded, understanding he couldn’t promise forever. That would be childish and, more so, stupid. “Better make it good, then.”

Loki was good at apologies, but there was a difference between an apology and being actually apologetic. The latter he struggled with, always had. If he desired chaos - and he did - an apology was like saying sorry for something beautiful. Still, not everyone saw it like that, and he knew the benefits of calm after disorder.

He placed his right arm across his chest, fist resting over his heart. “I am sorry that I said what I did, after your generosity. I truly regret what I said; it was unfair, grossly so, and threw our friendship back in your face. I am sorry that I have not tried to be better.”

After he finished, his eyes again found the ground. He hadn’t felt so meek in years - he hadn’t had to apologise like this since Frigga caught him high on a hallucinogen from Alfheim right before a public infrastructure meeting. Brunnhilde was silent for a long time; around them, the chatter of the crowd seemed quiet and far away.

“You won’t try to be better,” she said. “You’ll be better.”

He looked up, hopeful.

“If you try anything like that ever again, I won’t even bother, Loki. I swear, I won’t. I’m not your fucking mother and this isn’t unconditional. But while we’re here… I’m sorry for telling Thor about your family. You trusted me with that and I didn’t even _think_. I know I said so before, but I kind of… got distracted. So I am sorry for that. Really.”

Loki bowed his head. “Apology accepted.”

“Good. Even?”

“Even.”   

She grinned and gathered him into a back-slapping hug. He reciprocated, grinning into her neck. “Good to have you back, shield-brother.”

“And you, shield-sister.”

They seperated off, still smiling, when a small cough to the side drew their attention. It was Doctor Strange, who wasn’t in his battle garb, but rather was wearing odd loose clothes in a style Loki hadn’t seen before.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Yes,” Loki said. “Thank you for your help, and kindly leave.”

“Who is this guy?” Brunnhilde whispered.

“He’s the one who had me falling through portals for half an hour,” Loki said back.

“Twenty minutes,” he corrected. “You’re welcome, by the way. I spoke to Thor while you were asleep. He said you’d been having… issues, which he thought stemmed from your magic.”

“They’re quite resolved, thank you.”

“Are they? Well, anyways. Have you tried meditating?”

“Strange,” Loki said, through gritted teeth. “I am a thousand years older than you, and one of the greatest _seiðr_ users in all of the Nine Realms. Yes, I have tried meditating.”

“What the hell is _seiðr_?”

“Magic, idiot.” Brunnhilde rolled her eyes.

“Interesting,” he replied. “What technique do you use?”

“What do you mean?”

“For meditation. What technique? Focused attention, open monitoring, _zazen_ , _vipassana_ , mindfulness, et cetera? The list is really endless.”

“Ah,” he said. “Uh. I don’t know it’s name. I just sit and imagine energy drawing towards me.”

Strange looked amused. “Does it help?”

He shrugged. “Enough. Meditation is not the most effective way of gathering more energy; runes do a far better job, but you can’t walk around with runes on all the time.”

“Runes?” It was Strange’s turn to be confused; he glanced to Brunnhilde, who made a _I dunno_ gesture.

“Yes. Symbols of power. If you draw them on your skin with animal fat and charcoal - paint would suffice, but the more natural the better, and fat doesn’t remove easily - they inform the universe that you’re about to use _seiðr_ , so the energy is already there, waiting for you. Do they not teach you about that in your temples?”

“No, they didn’t teach me that,” Strange admitted.

“They might not work for you, anyways. Your _seiðr_ is different to mine.”

“You sensed that too?” Strange looked excited. “The impl--”

“Right, as great as this little _seiðr_ convention is, I’m really wanting to get drunk right now,” Brunnhilde interrupted, “so could you guys leave it ‘til later? Get Stark to give you each other’s numbers or something.”

“I don’t have a cell phone,” Loki said.

Brunnhilde stared. “Even _I_ have a cell phone. Can’t you magic text each other, or something?”

The two men glanced at each other. Strange said, “I suppose we could… devise some method.”

“Well there you fuckin’ go,” Brunnhilde said. “Now, are you going to drink something?”

Strange shook his head. “I don’t drink. I was about to leave, anyways, when I spotted you. I’ll send you a link to an article on meditation types,” he said to Loki.

“Thanks,” Loki said, not inclined to tell the man he didn’t have a device on which he could access the internet. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Doctor Strange said, turning his back, and disappearing into the crowd.

“What a weird man,” Brunnhilde said. “What’s with that pathetic beard? Is it a Midgardian trend to look like a pubescent boy?”

“Must be,” Loki pondered. “That, or humans can’t grow beards.”

“No, they can, some of the men in Sharpsburg have them. Anyways, not like you can grow one, either.” She nudged him playfully. Norns, it was good to have her back.

“Yes, and at least I admit that,” Loki said. “I don’t try regardless of how patchy it’ll be.”

“Perhaps you should, just to make a passive aggressive statement to Stark.”

He turned to her. “How would me growing out my facial hair make a statement to Stark?”

“Well, maybe he’ll see it, and thinks that it looks bad, then realises that his own--”

“I hope you’re not about to shit-talk my goatee, Valkyrie,” Stark said, sliding up to them out of thin air.

“Never,” she replied sweetly.

He snorted and refilled his glass. “Sure thing. Are you two ready to join the grown-ups table? Bruce has finally showed up, and he won’t admit it, but he’s totally missing you guys.”

“Why would we want to hang out with the Bellenders?” Brunnhilde replied.

“That’s nothing _like_ Avengers! All they have in common is that they rhyme!” Stark cried, something inside of him apparently finally snapping. “You’re driving me insane, Val. You _must_ know what we’re called! How could you not? You’re just having us on, right? This is just one big joke. Please. It _has_ to be.”

Her face was flat, but in a strained way that meant she was trying to stop herself from laughing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stark.”

He groaned, downed his drink, refilled it, then stalked off, all with a maddened expression on his face. Loki and Brunnhilde just bit their cheeks and kept a deadpan expression.

“I saw that you were at the head of the militia,” he said innocently. “Have you been involved in their training?”

Brunnhilde turned to face him fully. “No thanks to you. Natasha and I were talking one night. Apparently you were going to ask me for help.”

“ _Natasha_ and you were--”

“Don’t change the subject, Loki.”

Loki felt his face go a little bit hot. “Fine. Yes. I was going to. But…”

“We fought,” she finished for him. “I know. But if you hadn’t been so damned childish, I might’ve had more time with them. I did what I could, but if Natasha hadn’t’ve asked, there may have been even more deaths today.”

“I didn’t know we were going to be attacked,” Loki protested.

She sighed. “I know.”

“And you probably wouldn’t have agreed to be apart of it even if I had asked. Not after what I said.”

“I dunno. I hate to admit it, but you were kinda right. I don’t do shit. And it’s time I start contributing. It’s why I said yes when Nat asked.”

Loki stared at her. “I’m glad you’ve seen sense?”

“Don’t push your luck,” she said.

“Noted,” he replied. “When is the funeral?”

“It’s tomorrow night. Stark said we’re going to have to bury them in the woods, in a designated area.”

“Why can’t we do a traditional funeral?”

“The lake isn’t big enough. It’d contaminate the water,” she said, looking unhappy.

“Oh,” Loki sighed, feeling disappointed. Traditional funerals were always a sight to behold. He didn’t like the idea that those who had died in battle wouldn’t be given a warrior’s send off, but he didn’t really mind forest burials. It was how Vanahiemians were buried; likely, Sigyn’s interment would have been in the forest too.

“I know,” she said. “At least it’s cyclical.”

“I suppose,” he said, then, “Can I have some of your absinthe without a sword at my throat?”

“Only cause you’re pretty,” she said, then handed him a tumbler.

 

* * *

 

The evening after the funeral found Loki sat in the community hall by the fire. The funeral had been tough; Thor had spent the entire thing tense and angry, obviously disappointed in himself for not doing more. He’d given a speech about how valiantly the people had fought, but when he sat down, Loki saw the hard lines of disappointment around his eyes. Loki knew in moments like this he couldn’t help; where the old Thor would have raged or disappeared for a day to go get in a fight without consequences, the new one could only sit and look proper. He couldn’t leave, not now, and he couldn’t be so explosively angry in the middle of Nyrlif, so he was trapped.

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice so quiet it could barely be heard over the crackling of the fire. “Hey.” It was Bucky, his hair in limp strands plastered to his face, and the sound of heavy rainfall came through the doorway where he leant.

“Evening,” Loki greeted, gesturing to the bench beside him and pushing the plate of snacks closer. “How is the Captain doing?”

“He’ll survive. No thanks to me.” Bucky fell into the seat facing Loki, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees. It reminded Loki a little bit of Steve.

“You carried him from the battle, did you not?” Loki asked.

“Yeah, but it’s my fault he was injured.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. I keep having these strange.. Flashes?” He looked conflicted for a second, then settled on the word. Bucky, according to Steve, was struggling to readjust fully. Things came slower to him, and sometimes didn’t come at all. “Yeah, flashes of shit that makes no damn sense.”

Loki leaned forward. This couldn't be good. “May I ask for an example?”

Bucky frowned, thinking back. “One of them grabbed my arm, my left one. It obviously didn’t hurt but then I looked down, and...” He hesitated again. “It was as if the metal cracked off like shards of glass, but instead of a human arm, it was one of theirs. Then it was like I was in this wasteland and… I dunno.”

“Ah.” Loki looked down to his hand and flexed it, watching the tendons shift under flesh and blue veins. “That--” He let out a breath, and tried again. “It appears when I was healing your mind, I left some of my own memories.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That sounds like the day I discovered my true heritage. I had not meant to leave anything. My apologies,” he said tensely. That was embarrassing, not to mention horribly revealing. He hoped he hadn’t left anything else too telling.

“That actually explains a lot.”

“Have you been struggling with this for a while?”

“Since… well, since you healed me.” Bucky stared at the fire. “I’m still figuring out what was me and what was the Soldier, s’all, and some of them just melt together. Then there were things that made no damn sense whatsoever like _that_ , so I thought it they were to do with the Soldier.”

“You should have come to me.”

“You’ve had your own problems.”

“Perhaps,” Loki said thinking over the last month and a half since he had healed Barnes. It felt like much longer.

Bucky looked over at Loki, taking a sandwich from the plate between them. “Is there anything you can do?”

“I-- I’m not sure. When I have regained my strength I can have a look in your head, if you’d like?” Bucky grimaced making Loki chuckle. “Or you can ask me if there is a memory you’re unsure of, I can inform you if that was a deed of mine or not.”

“Yeah. That’d be helpful. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m sure Steve would be willing to help for the other memories.” Bucky pulled a face that Loki couldn’t quite interpret. “Perhaps not?”

“No, he would. But he would also get excited that I’m _making progress_.” Bucky stressed the last two words with finger quotation marks. “I think he just… he just, uh, he got it in his head that after that shit was out _my_ head things would go back to how they were... by not doing that, I’ve disappointed him.”

“I may not know him as well as you, but I don’t believe it is physically possible for Bucky Barnes to disappoint Steve Rogers.”

“That's exactly the issue, though. Am I still Bucky Barnes? I’ve been ripped apart and put back together over and over again. I’ve been tortured more times than I care to count. I don’t think I can ever just…” Bucky shrugged helplessly.

“I understand. Thor and I… Sometimes we are truly brothers again, after everything that happened. We have moments that feel as though nothing has changed, and then others that I can see more than ever how much nothing will ever be the same again. How much I ruined. He doesn’t realise what I’ve been through. I think it is impossible for the loved ones of those who have experienced horror to truly understand what the horror entailed. They might know, but they don’t _understand_.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“You sound like Steve,” Loki said, smirking slightly.

“It’s Sam who he got that off. Sam’s always asking me to talk about it,” he said, clearly exasperated. “But still, have you?”

“I told him of _ginnungagap_ , but I have never told him of the tortures Thanos put me through.”

“Ginnagap?”

Loki chuckled. “ _Ginnungagap_. The Void between worlds. Silence enough to drive anyone mad; all you could hear was your own heart and your bones creaking. Complete darkness asides as a few stars. And then there was the endless, eternal cold.”

Bucky looked like he was thinking hard over something. “I think I remember the cold, I mean, fucking freezing. And that it just went on and on and on, for ages. And this _fear_ , unadulterated and pure. As the soldier, I was never really scared, least not till Steve said my name. Not that I remember, anyways, but maybe they programmed that out of me. So, I guess that was you?”

“Indeed,” Loki said, feeling half mortified and half relieved that someone else _got_ it, even if it was as a result of a complete accident. “The fear is probably Thanos.”

“Who is that?”

“The Mad Titan. Dark Lord. Pure evil. He found me in the Void and… I joined him only to get away from the cold, and then because I had no choice.”

“What did he do to you?”

What did he do?

He made Loki submit and any and all ways he could think; he picked at the tender scabs of Loki’s attempted suicide, bore into him that no one at home would miss him, and that the only way forward was under Thanos. He pushed his little fears out into the open and pulled them apart. But the thing that Loki really resented him for was when he lost control of his own mind, Thanos would make it feel _right._

All of his memories of that time arrived in the moment halfway through like a dream. A piece of rag being worked into his mouth for him to bite down on. Clanking, rusty chains around his collared neck, like the ones that Odin would use mere months later and would make his head scramble to keep ahold of reality. A swarm of insects crawling up his arm, inside of his nose and ears. Ice pressed into blistering burned skin. One of Thanos’ minions taking her hand through his hair like Frigga did, only to clench her fist and drag him towards the ground by his scalp when he let out a sigh.

What did he do?

“He broke me.”

“Did they wipe your mind and rebuild it too?”

“No. He used what I am to make me what I became. My anger, my loneliness. He used it against me. I don’t remember it all I don’t wish to, either. Some things are better unknown.”

“God, I wish I didn’t remember so much,” Bucky said, looking up at him with exhausted eyes. Loki knew that, too; the weight of the past so heavy, it seemed unsurmountable.

Loki tilted his head. “I can remove your memories, if you really wanted.”

Bucky looked as though he was considering it for a moment, and Loki wondered if he really was going to say yes. Loki had the brief notion that Bucky was made of tougher stuff than that, but he amended the thought - who _wanted_ that weight, especially out of some misplaced idea of what made one strong?

But then he shook his head. “Thanks, but I can’t run from it. Steve would hate it if I tried, and if Stark found out I was tryna dodge his punishment…”

Loki shrugged. “The offer is there.”

They fell silent for a moment, staring into the fire. Loki felt pleased but raw at having discussed what happened years passed.

“Y’know that strong drink Valkyrie likes? Could you maybe magic it here?”

Loki summoned the skull bottle he knew was lying, abandoned, in a cupboard in the kitchen of the hall, and passed it to Bucky without a word.

 

* * *

 

“Oi, Loki,” Brunnhilde called out.

Loki turned from where he was helping to rebuild one of the houses, feeling a strange sense of déjá vu. They had started the repairs the day after the battle, having to tear down some of the damaged buildings to rebuild them, starting with Hunningard - which was finished now - and the residences which had suffered the worst of the damage.

Brunnhilde stood with Steve and Bucky, the former of whom had a general expression of morality _,_ or perhaps _righteousness_. Oh dear. “Yes?”

“We’re starting training with the militia again, and we’ve got more volunteers,” Brunnhilde told him. “I thought you might like to be more involved this time around.”

Loki stood up straighter. “I… Yes, I would.”

“Great, we’re meeting in Munningard in a few.”

“Am I still needed here?” He asked the group of Asgardians he was assisting. Once they all gave shrugs of indifference, he followed Brunnhilde into Hunningard, where Loki then began to genuinely wonder if he had gone insane.

Loud music was blasting from a small speaker in the centre of the room; in the corner behind Thor’s throne sat a massive pine tree. The Iron Man and War Machine hovered near the top, helmets down, flying around and covering it in sparkling colourful tinsel.

On the floor sat Banner with a long wire covered in small bulbs, his skin turning an uncomfortable shade of green as he muttered, only just loud enough for Loki to hear above the music, “why do they ask the angry man to do the most frustrating job? _Why_?”

Beside him stood Barton, he hung a small shiny red ball onto one of his arrows, notched it into the bow and fired it into the tree. The ball got caught on a branch and hung on it, the arrow however continued through to hit Stark’s metal clad leg.

"Watch it, Neytiri! I literally just got this repainted, and I’ll have your guts ‘stead of this tinsel if you don’t be more careful!" Stark yelled. Barton chuckled, and seemed remarkably unbothered.

Natasha stepped into his view from where she had been hidden by the tree. She held more of those shiny balls in various colours, hanging them on the evergreen. Her lips were moving - no sound loud enough for him to hear over the music - but as Loki watched, he realised with surprise she was mouthing along to the song. Her eyes slid towards him, widening slightly when she saw him watching her, and then narrowing in such a fierce glare that Loki found himself amused and terrified.

“What _are_ you doing?” Loki demanded when everyone just carried on, rather than inform the _prince_ what they were doing to the _throne room._

“It’s almost Christmas!” Tony replied cheerfully, as though it were obvious.

“Tony, I don’t think they had Christmas in Asgard,” Barton said slowly, and the music went quiet.

“Why not?”

“Loki, who’s Jesus?”

Loki looked between the mortals feeling as though he was missing out on a joke. “I do not know.” Barton smirked at Tony.

“ _Actually_ , Christmas originally started as a Pagan festival during midwinter. It’s also known as Yule festival or _jólfaðr_.” Banner told them distractly, eyes still focused on the lights he was untangling. “It started on the Winter Solstice, when the days begun to get longer and would last twelve days. There’s one legend about Wotan – Yule-father, or Odin as you’d know him  – charging across the sky on his eight-legged horse, so kids would leave their boots out on Solstice Eve, filled with hay and sugar, for Sleipnir's journey. In return, Odin would leave them a gift for their kindness.”

“Wait, wait,” Stark held up a hand, grinning. “Odin was Santa Claus?”

“He never did any of that to my knowledge,” Loki said.

“Nor mine.” Brunnhilde added.

“Well, the traditional idea of Santa did come from Saint Nicho--”

“I don’t care. Santa Claus does exist!” Stark pumped his fist turning back to the tree. “Cap, maybe you can explain Easter to them, make sure to tell them all about Judas.” Rhodes laughed.

Loki turned to Steve hoping for an explanation but he looked more annoyed than anything. “I’ll get you a Bible to read,” Steve said dismissively. “Or you can just look it up yourself.”

Until now, Steve, Bucky, and Stark had been successful at avoiding each other in the small settlement despite the other Avengers urging for them to talk. It seemed something had transpired without Loki’s notice, because the three seemed at the very least not opposed to the other’s existence, which was a step up from how it had been. Loki did wonder, however, if Stark was putting on a happy facade just for the sake of making it easier, since he knew he was outnumbered.

“Well, on that weird note, I'm gonna be in there.” Brunnhilde separated off, heading into Munningard.

“Remember that Christmas you tried to steal a tree?” Steve asked Bucky, following her.

“You had been ill all month. I wanted you to have a good Christmas,” Bucky said, laughing slightly, as though it were an acceptable reason to steal a tree.

Steve and Bucky moved to the table, bickering over a past Christmas whilst they set up a map of Midgard with various flags across it, each signifying a base, route, or other landmark. There were also little statuettes of soldiers, signifying contingents or wider forces.

Loki stood at the side, watching the other three discuss their plan for the meeting. Asgardians began to stream into the room, standing about nervously. Steve spoke up, trying to seem friendly, but, due to his impressive size and strength, mostly failed. It was like many of the Aesir forgot that they were, at a baseline, stronger and more durable than their human counterparts.

“For this exercise, we’re here,” Steve said, pointing at New York once the group had arrived. “Give me your best strategy to go about taking down each of these bases,” he pointed to ones through New Jersey.

A man, Einar, spoke up hesitantly. Einar was a shy fellow, but sharp when it came to strategy. Had he been born in a different family, he may well have been a general; instead, on Asgard, he had run a highly successful brewery. “What technology do we have? Midgardian technology, or like we had on Asgard?”

“Earth, uh, Midgard. You can take into account SHIELD and Stark’s technology.”

Silence followed for a moment, then, slowly, they begun to discuss different methods amongst themselves. They grew more and more animated, arguing over the merits of one route over another. Loki watched the group, interested in the thought processes of the individuals, but noticed as Brunnhilde became more and more stony-faced and withdrawn. Eventually, she turned on her heel, and strode out of the room, head bowed.

He followed her, feeling Steve’s questioning looks on his back. Brunnhilde had already run from Munningard, but he knew where to find her.

She sat on the shore of Lake Semerwater, her dark eyes cast outwards to the glassy-calm surface. He could see was holding back tears, her eyes red and puffy. Without a word he sat down beside her and waited quietly.

“I was doing alright, y’know, on Sakaar. Drinking enough that I could sometimes forget, watching Hulk beat people’s faces in. It was good. Then you and your stupid brother had to come along, drag me back into it all. And now _this_. That stupid battle. All the people, talking about routes… it just reminded me of them. Of _her_.”

“You’ve never really told me what Arnnbjörga was like,” Loki said, hesitant after what he said during their fight.

“You never asked.”

“You wouldn’t have told me. Especially after what I said.”

“True,” Brunnhilde conceded. “She was so smart. Smarter than you, probably, if you could believe it, the finest General I’ve ever worked under or with. She was strong and beautiful, and when she died I think part of me went with her.”

“What happened?”

“We were told to go to investigate a mysterious force in the outer regions of the Nine, orders directly from Odin. In hindsight, he probably knew what he was sending us in to do, but at the time, we were barely prepared for such a force. We thought it was just some skirmish or disturbance, not the Goddess of _Death_. We got there, and she _slaughtered_ us. Eighty elite soldiers, the finest of Asgard’s women, just… wiped out,” she whispered, taking another swig. Her voice stronger, but raw, carried on. “Hela threw a blade at me, but Arnnbjörga stepped in front of it.”

“Brave,” Loki said admiringly. It took a real true heart for your first instinct to protect another rather than yourself; it was an instinct Loki hadn’t overly nurtured.

“Foolish. I shouldn’t have survived that attack. I should’ve died with her. Then, at least, I could be in Valhalla, rather than this shithole.”

“What happened next?”

“She died on the battlefield. I hope it was almost immediate, but I don’t know, because I didn’t check on her body for a few minutes. I didn’t know what to do. The messenger had been shot,” she added, like it was supposed to be a joke, but was really more just horrific in its magnitude. “So I just activated a flare and waited for help to arrive, sitting in the blood-thick mud, surrounded by the bodies of my shield-sisters. Odin arrived with an entourage. He looked like how he always did. Couldn’t even summon up a pretense of sorrow,” she spat.

“I heard about it,” Loki admitted. “We weren’t told what was happening either, just that the Valkyrior had been sent off and would be back soon, then came news of your destruction. Thor was so angry that he hadn’t been told - he wanted to join you, help the soldiers.”

She chuckled softly. “He told me he used to want to be a Valkyrior, until he found out they were women.”

“How did you end up on Sakaar, then?”

“I knew of a few ways out of Asgard other than the Bifrost, so I stole a ship, and I ran.” She smiled wistfully and said, “I travelled for a while, explored realms. I was lost for awhile - but I didn’t care. It’s not like I was aiming for anywhere, y’know? Then, as I was travelling through one of the secret paths, I passed cause I was drunk, and was caught up by one of the scavengers. Grandmaster liked me, probably for the same reasons he liked you. So I became a scavenger as well.”

“The Grandmaster has odd tastes,” Loki said.

“Saved us both, didn’t it?”

That, he supposed, was true. “His bodyguard Topaz always _hated_ me, though. I’m not sure why.”

Loki looked across to her. “Her planet, Gwendor, was attacked for its strategic position during the ancient wars - the ones waged by Bor. She lost everything at the hands of Asgard.”

“Asgard,” spat Brunnhilde. “Who hasn’t lost everything at the hands of it? It seems that everywhere and everyone Odin came into contact with lost _something_.”

And wasn’t that just sickeningly true?

 

* * *

 

After a very strange party celebrating the turn of the year - which, for some reason, involved Stark grabbing Loki and kissing him as the Avengers and Co drunkenly yelled ‘happy new year’ - Secretary Ross was due to visit the settlement.

According to Stark, he had been attempting to arrange a call in since they arrived on Midgard, but Stark had managed to put him off until the battle, which had obviously rather changed their situation. Now, Ross was demanding he be allowed to visit or else he will ensure life will be made difficult for them, possibly attempting evicting them from Midgard, which Loki thought was rather ambitious given human’s complete lack of interplanetary travel.

After telling the more disliked Avengers to leave for the day, they were to meet Ross at the main entrance to the settlement, which was flanked by Vision and Stark. They were in the process of creating a road between Nyrlif and Sharpsburg for trading and travel purposes. It wasn’t smooth enough for a car yet, so they watched as a older man with grey hair and a full moustache walked down the path, surrounded by guards, and a young woman in a black suit carrying a electronic tablet as a notepad.

Stark strode towards them confidently. He took the woman's’ hand and kissed her knuckles, making her shy away bashfully. “Miss Rae.” He stepped back and put an arm around Ross’ shoulders in that overly-familiar way that he did, leading Ross towards the group. “Secretary, so good to see you. Come, come. You remember King Thor.”

“Your majesty.” Ross held out a hand but Thor just eyed it.

“Do you not bow to royalty in Midgard?” Loki asked mildly, smiling impishly across at Ross.

Stark removed his arm and stepped back, an amused half-smile across his face. Ross looked between them all.

“You’re not serious?” When Loki just lifted an eyebrow, Ross sighed and bowed to Thor. It was a terrible, awkward bend of his body that kind of reminded Loki of when Laufey was forced to bow to Odin at the decennial meetings of the Nine Realms.

Stark had a strained look, like he was trying to keep in a raucous laugh. “This is Loki…  y'know, I never asked, are you still Odinson? Like Thor?"

"No. I... I prefer Loki Asgardson." Loki caught Thor’s eye, whose face was carefully blank.

"I like it, very New Year new me. Anyway," Stark turned back to the general, putting his arm around Loki's shoulder. Loki immediately shrugged it off with a poisonous look of _what-are-you-doing-you-maniac_. "Loki, meet Secretary Thaddeus Ross."

Loki offered his hand hand. "Secretary." Ross took his hand gingerly, and dropped it as soon as he could. Loki was very irritated by his pettiness.

"Stark tells me you did your time in Asgard, for what you did to New York.”

"Yes. I am now pledged to my King." The pledging had been awkward; Loki on one knee, reciting age-old words, while Thor tried not to laugh either from seeing Loki so splenetically submissive to ceremony and tradition, or from the joy of his brother finally saying he’d stay. Loki had broken the promise, but not the pledge.

"From what I understand, you were pledged to your last king, yet you still betrayed him and Asgard when you attacked us."

“I was pledged to protect Odin, yes,” Loki said, “and Odin was never in any danger. Neither was Midgard, really.”

“That sounds like a technicality,” Ross said, his eyes narrowing.

“I rather thought Midgardian politicians enjoyed technicality,” Loki said bluntly. “Or have I been mistaken?”

Ross did not like that at all. He shifted uncomfortably, and looked irritated. “That does not fill me with confidence.”

Loki considered his reply. "Secretary Ross, My grudge was never against the people of Asgard or Midgard, merely Odin. Now all that remains of that dynasty is Thor. My brother, whom I have no intention to betray.” At least, not _seriously_. “Nyrlif is where Thor resides, and therefore, I will do everything within my power to protect it.”

"And yet you refuse to sign the Sokovia Accords?"

"I may have certain abilities, but I am not joining the Avengers as a superhero. Is that not what the accords are for? _Heroes_?"

Ross glared at him for another moment, Stark cleared his throat. "He’s been here ten months, he hasn’t tried to kill us yet, and has healed some of my nasty genius engineer burns, so, tour?”

Loki wasn’t sure why he had been forced to join as he was pushed to the back of the group alongside Ross’ PA, who’s expression couldn’t seem to decide if she was terrified to be walking with Loki of the New York Attack, or excited to be in the presence of a demigod. He followed them as they made their way around the settlement; Stark seemed a natural when it came to politics, and Loki was glad he was here for this. Thor was terrible at the subtle art of decorum and diplomacy. It was something Odin was going to train him more in, before... everything.

Loki followed them for a while but eventually slunk away to Brunnhilde's quarters when they passed them.

“Ross is a son of a whore pig who deserves to be castrated,” he announced as he let himself in.

“Would it kill you to knock?” she asked, upending a man from her lap, who sprawled unceremoniously onto the ground.

Loki froze. “I didn’t realise you had company.”

“Oh, he was only dropping by for a chat,” she said. The man in question wore only those shorts that Midgardians did for underwear, and a tank top; he was probably from Sharpsburg. He sputtered and scrambled to his feet.

“This isn’t your boyfriend, is it?” The man demanded, red-faced.

“In your dreams, Chase. Now, get out of here.”

“Brunn--”

“No, get out of here. I’m done with you for today.”

The man looked between Brunnhilde and Loki, who gave him a helpless look. He mumbled something angrily, shoved his jeans on, and let himself out.

“What was _that_ about?” Loki asked.

“He was being pushy. I wasn’t having it,” Brunnhilde replied. “Midgardians are something else, I swear. Thinking they’re so important as to ask what is essentially a Goddess to be _exclusive._ ”

“Their arrogance knows no bounds,” Loki said, without much conviction. “Ross almost refused to bow to Thor.”

“Did you say something?”

“Oh, I did. I wanted to see how he’d react.”

She smirked. “I swear, you only obey social conventions when it pleases you.”

“Of course,” he said, banishing his uncomfortable ceremonial armour in favor of simple leathers and linens. “Speaking of, drinks?”

She shifted uncomfortably. Loki’s smile faded. “I’m actually trying going sober,” she said.

Loki was taken aback. “Oh,” he exclaimed awkwardly. “How honourable.”

Brunnhilde just gave him a side-glance and picked up her Dragonfang sword, twirling it around carelessly. “Don’t get too excited. I’m just trying it out.”

“My excitement is contained,” he deadpanned. He conjured a short sword and jumped into a stance. She mirrored him, and they began a lazy spar. “How long has this been going on for?”

“Since the post-attack party, Stark's been assisting me,” she paused as she dodged a particularly sharp jab from Loki. “Are you actually trying to hurt me here? Fuck. Anyways. After you left, I ended up getting so drunk that I passed out before I reached my house, and I was found by a _concerned citizen_ ,” she said distastefully. She launched an offensive that left Loki’s brain scrambling.

“Haven’t you done that before?”

“No, actually. I always made it home. This was the first time.”

He caught the sword with his and held it in place so he could look down at her. Her face was carefully blank, and her arms were beginning to tremble as she pushed the blade against his. He let up slightly, and she took advantage, hooking her leg around his and pulling so he ended up on his backside. She kicked his blade away from him.

“Checkmate,” she said.

“Indeed,” he said, now looking up at her from the ground. She hadn’t broken into a sweat. “I am bested.”

She grinned and led out a hand for him, tugging up him to his feet. “How difficult was that for you to say?”

“Not so difficult when under duress.”

“So you do have a head between those ears.”

“And so it seems do you,” he said carefully. “It is a good decision to try and cut down.”

Brunnhilde turned away from him, and he knew she was hiding whatever expression was plastered on her face. “Yes, well, I do not want to be an embarrassment.”

“To you or to others?”

“I am already an embarrassment to myself, but it is shameful to be so in front of the general populace,” she declared, though her voice was weak and unconvincing.

Loki frowned and approached her. “You are not an embarrassment.”

“You said it yourself, Loki. I don’t do anything.”

“You do. You help run the militia,” he said, not sure how to make her feel better. Wallowing was not a good look on someone who had been so consistently strong, at least in front of Loki. “And you provide me with drinks, which makes your presence well worth it.”

She let out a frustrated sigh and turned to face him. “You’re not very good at this.”

He picked at his nails with his thumb, looking down at his hands. “Apologies.”

“Don’t you go self-pitying too,” she said, exasperated. “We can’t both be terrible.”

He gave her a sharp, false grin. “I suppose the pity expenditure can only afford one of us at once.”

She snorted. “Exactly. It’s my turn.”

“Well then,” he said amicably. “What can I do to help you stop being pitiful, so that I may be pitiful instead?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what’ll make me feel better. Time. A good drink, but I can’t have that. I was speaking to Stark, and he said that most alcoholics… they have to quit absolutely, or they’ll just relapse and be as bad as before.”

“Alcoholic?” He tried the word out in his mouth, saying it slowly. He hadn’t heard the word before - or if he had, he’d paid no attention to it. It certainly wasn’t a word used on Asgard.

“Someone addicted to alcohol, drinking,” she muttered, her eyes to the ground like a scalded child.

Loki felt some big strange weight settle over him, though he knew it must be nothing compared to Brunnhilde’s. He felt lost. This wasn’t something he’d ever had to deal with before. He took a few careful steps towards her.

“Brunnhilde… would you…?”

She looked up at him, and nodded, biting her lip. She was on the edge. He drew her into his chest, one hand cradling her head over her soft hair, and the other around her shoulders. After a moment, her arms found their way around him, her head flat against his chest.

“I believe you’ll be fine, in the end,” he murmured, after a long silence. She began to shake, her body making trembling convulsions as she held back tears. “I believe it, Brunnhilde.”

She laughed thickly, sniffing. “You place too much faith in me, Loki.”

“I am merely returning the favour,” he said quietly. She chucked again, and Loki didn’t say anything at all when hot tears began to bleed through his shirt.

 

* * *

 

Loki found himself enjoying council meetings more recently. He was taken much more seriously than he ever had been in Odin’s court. Steve stood at the side whilst they discussed methods and techniques of training the militia, especially with the resources they had. Thor, Bucky, Brunnhilde, and Loki all sat around the table in Muginngard.

“We should begin teaching the older children strategy,” Loki said once the conversation lulled to a stop. “They shouldn’t be soldiers - too weak to fight against adults, regardless - but allow them to sit in meets and learn. Ylva would do well to receive this education, as would many of her friends.”

Steve frowned and crossed his arms, like how he did whenever anything that could possibly encroach on someone’s liberties was suggested. “They’re children, Loki.”

“Children who have seen a war and seen their home destroyed, Captain. Ylva was invaluable during the last fight.” He looked up at Steve, softening his tone. “They are no longer the innocents they were; they have seen their friends and families massacred, their homes destroyed. It would be good for them to learn, and perhaps one day we will have great generals from them.”

“I was in my first battle not much older than some of them,” Brunnhilde said, casually leaning back in her chair. “I agree with Loki. Get them in the meetings. They’re already learning hand to hand, and some of the older ones are asking to learn with weapons. Why not teach them basic strategy? It’ll hardily scar them,” she added dryly.

“You would have joined the war even when you were twelve if you could have, Steve,” Bucky added.

Steve looked around the table considering for a moment then finally nodded, “Okay. Long as they’re not too young and we have parents permission, they can sit in.”

“How young is too young?” Loki asked.

“I’d say anything younger than thirteen, but I don’t actually know how grown that’d put you as an Asgardian.”

“A thirteen year old is around your four,” Thor said, who had been sitting remarkably quietly whilst everyone else discussed the matter. Likely, he was on Loki’s side with this; Thor himself had started attending battles incredibly early, mostly because he was so eager, though he didn’t fight actively until he was made a Captain’s Apprentice.

“How old are you usually when you hit puberty?” Bucky pondered.

The Asgardians exchanged a thoughtful glance. “... Anywhere between twenty and thirty?” Loki hedged. “Development is different to that of Midgardians. Children are born far less developed, if possible, than their Earth counterparts. They then grow at about half the speed until they reach pubescence. After which point, development is far, far slower.”

“So how long are you a teenager for?”

“In what sense?”

“Rebellion against parents, figuring out the world, having some responsibilities, but not all of them… It wasn’t a thing when I was a kid, but apparently it is now. You used to be a kid, then you were an adult, but now there’s this in between stage,” Steve said. “I think it was Elvis who invented it.” Bucky snorted.

“I don’t think that we have a ‘teenage’ either,” Thor said. “Once you are granted some luxuries of adulthood, you are generally granted all of them.”

Steve looked between them all. “So how old actually _are_ you, compared to us?”

“Me and Thor would probably be considered to be the same age in terms of Midgardian development, but there are around ten years between us. Of course, I don’t know my true birthday,” Loki said. “I suppose we’d be…?”

“Somewhere around twenty-five?” Thor said thoughtfully. “How old is Wanda?”

“Twenty-two, I think. The sorta age you’d probably have moved out, maybe you’d have a long term partner, or in a couple places you might be about to get married. The general population probably wouldn’t have kids, though. Well, not in this day and age.”

“Probably closer to that, then,” Loki admitted. “I am the only one to have moved out of the Odin household, but Thor would’ve been married, had he not spent so much of his time at war.”

Thor grinned mischievously. “That, and I wasn’t ready to stop more pleasurable pursuits.”

Loki rolled his eyes and called him beastly under his breath, but smirked a little bit too.

Steve sat back in his chair, surprised. “So  what about you, Brunnhilde?”

“How old are you?” she asked Steve.

“I’m thirty-three, in the actual amount of years lived.”

“And would thirty-three year olds usually be married with children?”

“I guess.” Steve’s expression didn’t change, per se, but something in his manner became more clipped. It was clear that he wasn’t happy in his lack of parenthood; or, perhaps, he was ashamed of it, those old expectations of what his life _should_ be still hanging onto his skin.

“Then yes, I’m probably about that age. Older than these two, for certain, but not old enough to be their mother.”

Loki started to say some witty remark when the door to the Muningard swung open and Heimdall rush in, snow dusting his hair and shoulders. The watcher dropped to one knee at the head of the table beside Thor, both hands gripping the hilt of his sword. “Sire, I have news of the Aesir trapped on other worlds.”

Thor stood eagerly. “You have been able to contact them?”

“Indeed. I have tried many times and failed until now.” Heimdall stood, sheathing the sword at his side. “I spoke with the Lady Sif. They had heard of Asgards destruction and rumours of the Asgardians coming to Midgard.”

“They are here?”

“They have entered the solar system and will likely arrive by the end of the snow season.”

“We must tell Stark,” Loki said. “He can ensure they will not be shot down as we were.”

“Can I speak with them?” Thor asked eagerly.

“I’m afraid I cannot take another to communicate.”

Loki considered offering his services but a sharp look from Brunnhilde - _Don’t overexert yourself_ \- stopped him.

“Whatever you need to know, however, I can commune with them to discuss whatever is needed.”

“Most urgently, we need to know the number of them for readying the settlement. Knowing how much more food to acquire. We should include more houses into the rebuilding plans,” Thor said, listing off the suddenly overwhelming list of things that needed to be done. “If you can get a basic census of the people, Loki, I’m putting you in charge of the plans for extending the settlement.”

“Of course,” he said, bowing, secretly thrilled to be put in charge of operations without so much of a need to convince his brother.

“Captain, will you be able to liaise with Stark? We must ensure we have the resources for more people; cattle, crops, and machinery. Food is the most important thing right now.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. We’re okay when it comes to the settlement.”

“Good. I’ll call a meeting and tell the citizens about what’s happening, but we need somebody on the ground, someone the general people would talk to regarding any issues they may have that they do not feel comfortable coming to their king about.”

“Eir. She takes care of the farmer’s children, not to mention her assistance at the community hall after the battle. They know her.” Loki suggested.

“Good,” Thor said, the urgent energy halting for a moment. His one blue eye flashed over to Loki, and he smiled, just a little bit, like he was staggered by his own proactivity. Loki felt a jolt of pride for his brother.

 _Finally_ , he was beginning to act like the king he was always supposed to be.

 

* * *

 

“Where are you going?” Loki asked Thor a week later when he found him packing a bag in his room.

Thor glanced around at him. “Stark has requested I go with him to speak to the leaders of this country about the new settlers that are coming.”

“How long will you be gone for?” He eyed the small bag.

“Stark promised two days at the most. Miss Potts however said likely a few more.” Thor turned back to his bag, shoving his clothes within. Loki resisted the urge to snap at him about folding them neatly knowing, Thor would make fun of him if he did.

Hesitantly, Loki asked, “who will be in charge in your absence?”

“Heimdall. I have already informed him.”

“I see.” Loki stepped further into the room, noticing the mess Thor kept it in. He gingerly stepped over a pair of jeans. “What happened to the royal line?”

“You have not yet been pardoned for your crimes in the eyes of the mortals on this planet.” Thor stood to his full height and turned to face Loki. “I want them in my favour and putting you in charge will not help that.”

“I only want what is best for this settlement,” Loki snapped.

“I know that, brother. But many do not, it is better this way, even just for now. Besides, it is only for a few days.”

Loki picked at the skin of his thumb. “And have you given any thought to who would take over should you be gone... permanently?”

Thor chuckled, sitting on his bed and looking up at him easily, probably knowing how sore Loki was over this. “I presume you didn’t mean that to sound like a threat.”

Loki just glanced at him sharply, with a _so what if I did?_ expression. Thor chuckled, and Loki broke out into a short grin as well.

“I have given it some thought and yet I do not know. You, Heimdall, and myself are the only ones coming from royalty. You are not officially of Asgard, and I fear that if I nominated you, in my absence, the Avengers would just take over regardless of my wishes. Heimdall is my most loyal follower, but he would not fit the role of King. I suspect he would refused if I offered.”

“Perhaps Brunnhilde.” Loki was as surprised as anybody to hear that suggestion come from his mouth.

“Brother, Brunnhilde is-- she could be brilliant, but she is a drunk and--”

“Not any longer.”

Thor just shook his head. “I will consider her, but I will have to see more evidence that she is committed to sobriety. With more Aesir returning, perhaps there will be others from the royal line.” Off-hand, he continued. “Besides, I plan to have many sons and daughters before that day arrives.”

“Now that the dear lady Sif is returning?” Loki teased, smiling knowingly.

Thor tried to laugh it off, but Loki knew he’d hit a point of embarrassment for him. “Sif and I are only friends.”

“Mother always said you two would end up together. She was usually correct in such matters,” He mused, ignoring Thor. Thor threw a scrunched up shirt at Loki, who dodged it easily, laughing. “I will ensure to create a matching throne besides yours with her name etched upon it, in time for her arrival, of course.”

“I won’t hesitate to fight you, brother.” There was no heat behind it - Thor was trying desperately to keep a straight face, in fact.

“Much to my disappointment,” Loki shot back.

“Oh, you want to fight now?” Thor stood up.

“I would never fight the King!” Loki said with an overdramatic bow, complete with little hand flourishes. “My liege, ‘tis my honour to even be threatened by you!”

Before Loki could surface from the bow, Thor grabbed Loki and pulled him into a hold. Loki yelped and began to struggle, laughing breathlessly. “Not so tough now, hmm?”

Loki swiper under Thor’s feet and used his own weight against him to topple them both onto the ground. Thor let go with an _oomph_ sound, but immediately rolled and plonked himself down onto Loki’s chest, side-saddle.

“Oh Norns,” Loki wheezed, tipping his head back, “what have you been _eating_?”

“Little princes,” Thor said with a grin.

“I am not little!”

“Who said I was talking about you?”

“How many runts do you have running around, unbeknownst to us all?” Loki asked, struggling to shove Thor off.

Thor shrugged casually. “More than you, that’s for sure.”

Loki stopped his efforts to laugh. “If having illegitimate offspring is a point of pride for you, you may want to reevaluate.”

“Says the man currently being sat on.”

“Umm,” said a voice at the doorway. It was Stark, who had a utterly confused look on his face. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Democracy,” Thor said, getting up. Loki sucked in a massive breath, almost choking on it. “Are we departing soon?”

“Yeah, the quinjet’s ready,” Stark said distractedly.

“Are you alright, friend? You seem off,” Thor said cheerfully, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I just didn’t think I’d see a fully grown man sitting on the chest of another fully grown man.”

“You must live a very boring life,” Loki said, standing up and brushing himself off.

Stark moaned. “God, why do you have to make everything dirty? I’m trying to live my best life over here.”

“I thought you enjoyed dirty, Stark,” Loki said innocently.

“Brother, cease this.” Thor said, without any conviction. “Or I shall tell Stark your old nickname.”

“Please don’t,” Loki said hurriedly. “I would rather give up any and all stake to the throne than Stark know that.”

“Then you’d better be quiet then.” Thor’s grin faded into a warm smile. “I’ll be back soon. Try not to destroy this place in my absence.”

“I’ll try.”

“It is the best we can hope for,” Thor told Stark. “Lead the way.”

“Oh, brother?” Loki called after them.

Thor turned around. “Yes?”

Loki swallowed. “Good luck.”

Thor nodded after a moment, understanding. It wasn’t just a good luck, but it was an acknowledgment; Loki telling Thor that all was well, even if he couldn’t have the throne. “Thank you.”

With that, they both left.

 

* * *

 

Finally, as Heimdall had said, they had word of the arrival of the Asgardians a month later as the snow was finally beginning to melt.

The mothership was much too big to land anywhere other than the sea or the desert, so the Aesir came down in smaller shuttles. They landed in a clearing beside the settlement and were taken straight to the community hall in order to organise them. A few were reunited with their surviving families, but a saddening number had no one come and claim the young soldiers. Loki vowed to ask Wilson about what could be done for them; he was always going on about support systems and such. It would be difficult to house them all, and a good many would be in the communal house, which had been nicknamed the Barracks.

He noticed Stark stood nearby basically shaking from his excitement. He’d been hankering to get a look at a real life working spaceship, chatting non-stop about it for days prior and asking Loki all sorts of questions that ranged between what every self-respecting Asgardian knew to complex engineering queries that Loki had only a vague answer for. The ship they had travelled in had been in barely workable condition during their travels, making it easy to be shot down by Stark Industries. In the end, it was barely salvageable to Stark’s extreme disappointment; however, while it wouldn’t fly again, the technology was certainly studiable.

Loki watched as Sif exited the last shuttle and saw Thor forgo his duties to run to her, hugging her tightly and spinning her in the air. Sif let out a rarely heard giddy laugh as they held each other.

“Thor.” She greeted, barely concealing her excitement in one word.

“It is very good to see you, Lady Sif.” Thor pulled back to look at her, his smile large and more genuine. “When Heimdall said you were alive, I could barely believe it.”

“I could say the same. When we heard of Asgards destruction we believed everybody gone. Who else survived?”

Thor looked to the ground. “Loki, Heimdall. Many others whom I do not know if you know.”

“And the Warriors Three?”

Thor looked to the ground, shameful. “They died great heroes attempting to take down Hela.” Sif closed her eyes, a heavy but unsurprised sigh escaping her. It seemed she had prepared for the worst.

“How did you hear of our survival?” Loki interjected, stepping towards them. He had long gotten over whatever grief he had for the three’s deaths; he missed them because he missed all of old Asgard, and they were woven into his memories of the place. Them, as individual people, he did not spare much thought for.

Sif turned to him, eyebrow raised. “I thought you were dead.” He pushed away the irritation at the disappointment in her tone.

“I faked my death.”

“And pretended to be our father for some time before I returned,” Thor added.

“Yes. Well.” Loki cleared his throat.

“Heimdall told us some of what happened. I’m sorry for your loss,” Sif said.

“Thank you.”

“In answer to your question, Loki, we heard rumours the Tesseract was on Midgard.” The cold feeling of dread spread through him faster than a Jotun attack. He barely hid his panic as Thor looked steadily at him. “Last I heard it was in the vault back on Asgard, so it wasn’t a large jump to presume that some of the Aesir came to Midgard and had taken it with them. After much discussion, it was decided to come here and perhaps find you, or at least some answers.”

“Who told you the Tesseract was on Earth?” Thor asked, his voice urgent and dangerous. Loki tried to keep his features neutral but knew Thor had already guessed.

“Somebody called Nebula. She’s hunting Thanos, who is hunting the Infinity Stones. How Thanos knows, I know not. It was just a rumor, but it was the best we had to go on.” Sif frowned as she realised there was something going on. “Did you not know it was here?”

“did not. Loki, did you?” Thor asked sweetly.

“I did not.” Loki lied smoothly but knew Thor didn’t believe him for a moment. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to bolt but that would just affirm his guilt.

Loki gasped as Thor grabbed him by his throat and pushed him into one of the shuttles, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the civilians. He held back a noise of pain as Thor slammed him against a wall, besides where Stark was poking his head into a mess of wires and circuits. “Out,” Thor ordered, not taking his furious eye off Loki’s.

“Lara Croft, if there’s any CCTV in here, please show me later.” Stark winked at the confused Sif before promptly hightailing it out of there.

“The Tesseract. Where is it?” Thor demanded.

“I _told_ you, I d--” Loki gasped in a breath as Thor’s hand tightened.

“ _Bullshit_. You went into the vault. Where is it?”

Thor’s anger was making his hand spark, little jolts of static electricity flashing through Loki’s body. Chaos was all fun and games until it was absolutely fucking terrible. Loki wanted to lie, but what could he say? That he saw it and _didn’t_ take it? Thor knew him better than that.

“In my pocket,” he gasped between breaths. Thor loosened his hand and eyed Loki’s leather trousers with a frown. “No. The interdimensional one.”

Thor released him fully and looked at him expectantly. With a heavy sigh, Loki reached into the pocket and found the Tesseract, holding it out for Thor to see. Sif let out a small gasp as it’s eerie blue glow filled the small shuttle entrance.

“And you wonder why nobody trusts you,” Thor hissed, taking a cloth from his pocket and lifting the Tesseract from him. Loki winced, but he knew he deserved it. “Why did you not tell us?”

Loki thought through his different options for an answer, finally settling on a half truth. “The mortals like to play with things they do not understand. I spoke with Natasha regarding Ultron. They were lucky with Vision. If they had the Tesseract, however, who knows what they would do. They could open a portal to Hel itself without meaning to; its energy source is unlimited, and deadly in the uninformed hands of Midgardians.”

Thor considered Loki’s answer. “And you did not tell _me_ on the ship. Why?”

“I believed you would inform your Avengers the moment we arrived.”

“Do not lie to me.”

He held Thors gaze for a few more moments, searching for another lie to tell him, but nothing decent came. “It is my escape. Should it be needed,” he admitted quietly, “I would be able to use it to teleport interdimensionally.”

“And why would you need that, Loki?” Thor sounded hurt.

“If I was removed from Nyrlif I wanted to be able to have my freedom, rather than being stuck on Midgard for the next thousand years. I knew if I told anybody it would be taken from me.”

“And you expected to be kicked out?” Despite the many times they’d spoken, even on that hill in England, Thor still didn’t understand.

“ _Yes_.” Loki sat down on one of the chairs with a heavy sigh. “Say I angered the Avengers, or they decided I was too much of a threat - they could bar me, and I wouldn’t have much say in it.”

“I would not let that happen.”

“You may not have a choice. If it were say… me, or the settlement?” Thor was silent for a few moments too long, giving Loki his answer. “Besides, I included you when I said the Avengers.”

“This could have helped us find the others much sooner,” Thor spoke much quieter than before, no longer as angry at Loki.

“Perhaps. I did search some when I was away and I did not find any hint of them at any of the nearest military posts. Locals said they had been gone for weeks. Perhaps they had already caught wind of Asgard’s destruction whilst we were travelling over and defected, left, or, like Sif, were already attempting to travel back.”

“When you were away?”

“When we first arrived on Midgard, when I left for a month or so,” Loki said, watching as Thor’s expression grew more and more grave. “I was not travelling this realm. I left to acquire the items I would need for Friggahof. I was not lying in the respect that I _do_ occasionally hoard items in my pocket, but I still needed particular items for that building.”

Thor sat down too, heavily. Loki hated the look of weariness that he’d caused on Thor’s face. “You _lied_ to me Loki. I believed I could trust you,” he whispered.

“I did but you can. You cannot, however, trust the mortals with that.”

“Loki--”

“When I first came through to this realm, they were running tests on it, ripping unstable doors across Yggdrasil. And Stark, he says he may have learnt his lesson from Ultron, but do you really want to test that theory with something as powerful as the Tesseract?”

Thor considered his words. “I will give it some thought.”

“It is safer within my pocket than anywhere in Nyrlif,” Loki said after a moment.

Thor gave him a dark look. “No. I am keeping it and if I find you’ve taken it without my knowledge again…” Loki waited with baited breath on his verdict. Thor just sighed heavily, so clearly disappointed that it made his heart ache. “Just… don’t.” Thor wrapped up the tesseract in the cloth. “I must continue my duties. I’m sorry you had to see that, Lady Sif.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she said.

Thor stalked from the shuttle, followed closely by Sif. Loki rubbed his neck and leant back against the cold wall, feeling terrible. Though he wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d planned to tell Thor he had it, he’d still much rather have done it on his own terms. He wanted to talk to Brunnhilde, but she was too busy reacquainting herself with a soldier who’d left the Valkyrior before the Hela massacre and joined the general forces. He didn’t want to interrupt, but he desperately needed a distraction.

Tonight, there would be likely a celebration, and that would be enough, though he was hesitant to attend given the fight that just happened. Sighing, he stood up, straightened out his clothes, pushed down the miserable swell of shame, and begun to walk to his room so he could be pitiful in peace. One step forward, two steps back.

 

* * *

 

Loki slunk into the celebration of the arrival of the Asgardians about an hour after it’d started. He hadn’t eaten since that morning, so as he went, he grabbed a loaf of bread and tried to look out for Thor so he could avoid him. Eventually, he spotted his brother in deep conversation with Sif, so Loki rolled his eyes and considered Thor good and distracted for the time being.

Next on his list as Brunnhilde, which took more time. Searching through the hall whilst digging into the bread, he eventually widened his search and  found her throwing up in the bathroom attached to the back areas of the hall, where only those tasked with cooking and cleaning tonight would be. He leaned against the wall as she retched into the toilet, and then cleared his throat.

“Occupied,” she said, spitting out some bile.

“I can see that.”

“Loki?” She said, spinning around quickly, the motion making her eyes squeeze shut in nausea. “Fuck, if it isn’t everyone’s favourite fucking douchebag.”

“You’re drunk,” he said, his heart sinking for her. Sobriety wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t think she’d be this bad so early on. She was worse than he’d ever seen her; it was startling obvious now why she'd made the choice to quit. He ripped the last bit of bread in half, chewing on one bit, and handing the other to Brunnhilde.

“You’re a douchebag.”

Loki crouched and pulled her hair back from her sweaty face, grimacing. “Are you done yet?”

She leaned into his palm and her eyes shuttered closed. “I’m so fucking done, Loki. I’m done. I want out.”

He sighed, wishing he were better at this. “Too bad,” he said, hoisting her to her unsteady feet. “Rinse your mouth out.”

She did so with an incredulous air, like Loki should be pleased she was obeying, because _she_ thought it was stupid. “When does it stop?” she groaned.

“What stop?” He grabbed some paper towels and wiped her mouth and face. Luckily, she’d avoided any on her clothes or hair. She petulantly chewed on the bread he handed her.

“ _It_ ,” she insisted, mumbling.

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Well, fuck, Loki, we can’t all be fucking… educated since birth to be so fucking _ar-tic-u-late_ ,” she spat, drawing out the syllables.

Loki was, suffice to say, confused. “What are you angry at me for? I haven’t done anything. Let’s go. We can get some food on the way out.”

“I don’t want any food.”

“Well, I do,” he said, dragging her out. She tried to walk in a straight line, but was swaying too heavily, and stumbled into multiple people. He picked up some bread, meats, and a mostly full plate of strange Migardian savory pastries that Thor always insisted they had at gatherings, to ensure the Avengers had something they liked.

Balancing that and Brunnhilde, he eventually got them outside, where it was snowing. She stumbled and fell into the soft, newly settled snow. She lay there for a good moment. “Are you mad at me?” she asked miserably.

“No,” Loki said. “I’m just surprised.”

She huffed a laugh. “I’m not. I don’t think being s… being sober suits me.”

“I think it does,” he said, crouching down next to her. “Are you going to attempt to stand, or shall I leave you here?”

She lay there for a long moment, her eyes soft and unfocused. “I’m angry at you because if you’d told me you had the Tesseract, we could’ve gotten out of this shithole,” she said. “Could of gone back to Sakkar.”

Loki sighed and sat cross legged next to her, creating a simple spell to keep the snow off both of them and the food, which he began to pick at. His hands were turning blue, but in the darkness illuminated only by the soft lifts of the community hall, they seemed almost black, as if they had frostbite.

“You don’t miss Sakkar that much,” he said. Surly she didn’t? The idea that she hated Nyrlif with such venom was a very sad one; he hadn’t thought she disliked it to this extent.

“I miss having a place, something to do. The freedom, the parades, the scale of it. Getting lost in the big city,” she mumbled, slurring.

“There are big cities in Midgard. You could go there.”

She groaned and shook her head, the movement over exaggerated. She didn’t say anything for a long while, then huffed out a laugh. “I’m so drunk, Loki.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“No, I think I do.”

“I don’t think I’ve been this drunk since we got here.”

They were interrupted by a shout from the darkness. “Hey! Are you two alright?” It was Banner, who had returned not long ago from… wherever it was that Banner went when not on Avengers business to assist with the new buildings.

“She’s drunk,” Loki said.

“I thought she was quitting?” Banner called back, emerging from the dark into the light from the hall.

“So did I,” Loki said through gritted teeth. Brunnhilde just groaned again.

“Has she thrown up?”

“Yes.”

“Good, you don’t want her getting alcohol poisoning. You gotta get her outta the snow, though.”

“She’s an adult. I can’t drag her everywhere,” Loki replied testily.

Banner looked liked he disagreed, but didn’t want to start an argument. “Sure, but she needs your help.”

“I don’t need his help,” she slurred.

“She doesn’t need my help,” Loki said, gesturing to Brunnhilde, who was busy organising her limbs to curl up in the fetal position. “Besides, I wouldn’t know how to help with this. Alcoholism is not heard of on Asgard.”

Banner sighed. “You’re her best friend, Loki. You can’t just leave her here because you don’t know _how_ to help.”

Loki snapped his gaze up to him. “Well, what do you suggest we do?”

“Get her back to her house. Give her some water. Have you never had to help Thor after a bender?”

“The Warriors Three would usually help Thor if he was so intoxicated he could not care for himself. He didn’t want help from his little brother. He thought it embarrassing.”

“Jesus Christ,” Banner said, rubbing his temples with one hand. “Alright, I’ll help you. C’mon, let’s go.”

“If you take the food, I’ll carry her.”

“Food? What--” He then saw the platter at Loki’s side. “Why do you have a plate of sausage rolls?”

“I’m hungry.”

Banner sighed again and picked up everything on the floor. Loki rolled Brunnhilde onto her back, then lifted her, bridal style, worried that over-the-shoulder would jolt her stomach too much.

“If you’re about to throw up, warn me,” Loki muttered.

“Will do,” she mumbled back, clearly about to pass out.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“I won’t,” she promised sleepily.

In silence, they made their way back to Brunnhilde’s house, the slightly settled snow crunching underfoot. It became increasingly difficult to see once they left the high street, and though Banner’s cell phone had a torch on it, it was fairly measly compared to the darkness that pushed in from all sides. Loki had better vision than Banner, so he would occasionally call out if there was a large tree root in his path.

They reached Brunnhilde’s house unscathed. Banner shoved the door open into the chilly home, and set about turning on the lights. Loki pushed his way into Brunnhilde’s bedroom and set her down on the bed, then manipulated her so that she was under the covers. Banner poked his head in.

“Are you not going to take off her boots?”

“She’s probably slept in full battle armour in a tent in the middle of hostile territory before,” Loki said, waving a hand dismissively. “She’ll be fine.”

Banner shrugged and held out a glass of water. “Is she awake to drink this?”

Loki gave her a little shove. She had passed out, and barely responded. “No.”

Banner set the water on the bedside table, then stared at Brunnhilde critically for a moment. He then pushed the blankets off her and grabbed her leg. Loki snapped his hand onto Banner’s wrist in alarm.

“What are you doing?” He hissed.

“Putting her in the recovery position?” Banner said, suddenly terrified. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

Loki stared at him for a moment longer, then released his arm. “Proceed.”

Banner did after a moment's hesitation. He gingerly arranged her body so it was on it’s side with her head supported, then returning the covers over her. “It’s so that if she throws up in her sleep, she won’t choke on it.”

“I know,” Loki said cattishly. They _did_ have something like the recovery position on Asgard, though it was so rarely practiced by civilians outside of a medical setting that he didn’t recognise it; too much time amongst barbaric soldiers had put him on high alert when a woman was essentially helpless. What had seemed like a merely unsavoury thing to do had suddenly taken on a whole new life when he as much time as he did living as a woman. He strode out of the room and back into Brunnhilde’s living room, sat down on the sofa, and began to gnaw away at the food, irritated that they hadn’t fully survived the journey back dry. Still, it wasn’t bad - better than starving, for sure.

Banner came back through and crashed down onto the armchair, rubbing his face tiredly. After a long moment where he just stared into space, Loki grew tired of the moping silence.

“Gold for your thoughts,” he said through a mouthful.

Banner made a tired little noise, and it occurred to Loki that he didn’t really know all that much about Banner; yes, he had the Hulk, and yes, he was a multidisciplinary scientist, but he didn’t really know much about anything beyond that. He realised he knew much more about Stark, Barton, Steve and Bucky’s personal lives and histories than he did Banner’s, which was odd, given how much time they had spent together on the ship.

“Just tired,” Banner said. “Preparations for all these new Asgardians has me beat.”

Loki chewed slowly, then swallowed. “You don’t have to help, if you don’t want to.”

“I think it comes under my purview as an Avenger,” Banner said. “Besides, Tony would never speak to me again if I turned my back on you all.”

“Are you and Stark close, then?”

Banner shrugged. “I… guess? We spend a lot of time in the lab together, and everyone with repeat exposure to Tony becomes his friend eventually. He kinda just makes the assumption of friendship and works from there.”

“It is most irritating.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I thought that too, when I first met him. I don’t usually like overly friendly people because it’s like, fake, right? Machiavellian, I guess. But Tony is just… friendly. Overly so.”

“Odd,” Loki said, “given how artificial he can seem at times.”

“That’s most people though, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not here telling me everything that makes you imperfect, because no one does that. People are just kind of fake,” Banner said. “I don’t like it. People pretend not to be scared of the Hulk, but I can _see_ it so transparently. It’s actually why I liked Tony initially. He doesn’t pretend to not be scared, and he prepares for the eventuality that I might Hulk out, rather than pretending it’s all okay.” Banner then shrugged in that harmless, nonchalaunt way that he did. “Anyways, I don’t like to gossip.”

“How admirable,” Loki replied. “Well, go on then.”

“What?”

Loki settled back in his chair with an eyebrow raised and his hands in an open gesture. “What makes you imperfect? If you have so much disdain for it.”

He knew it was an unfair question, but couldn’t the God of Mischief make people squirm a little every once in a while?

Banner looked surprised, then confused. “I’ve never been asked that before.”

“I’m sure there’s a lot of things you’ve never been asked.”

“True.” Banner took off his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his t-shirt, which was an action reminiscent of one of the scholars who’d aided in Loki’s magical education. Loki had hated him. “I guess the Hulk. Some would say it makes me a monster.”

“Some would say I am a monster for being Jotun inside, and not my other… less than savoury actions. Is a defect of biology true imperfection?” Loki asked hesitantly, those seeds sewn so long ago by Natasha suddenly coming into life and clarity, gentle roots carving their own little space.

“Well, no,” Banner replied, “but what if the defect influences your actions? What’s to blame?”

“ _Are_ your actions influenced by the Hulk?”

“How could they not be? Everything I do is to stop the Hulk, or make sure he only gets out at the most opportune moments. I struggle in crowds, I struggle when I’m exercising. I can’t be in a relationship, either. I mean, the person you marry is already the most likely to kill you, so I don’t really wanna make those odds worse.” Banner suddenly startled himself out of his rant, sighed, and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry.”

“The person you marry is most likely to kill you?”

“Yeah. Most people who are murdered are murdered by their spouses. Or, at least, that’s what Natasha told me.”

“Oh. I had not heard that before,” Loki admitted. “It is probably not true on Asgard.”

“Who is most likely to kill you on Asgard?”

“The enemy.”

Banner laughed and conceded. “Stupid question.”

Loki grinned toothily for a moment. “Indeed,” he said. “Going backwards, you say that your actions are influenced by, essentially, _not_ letting the Hulk to rampage. Surely those actions aren’t imperfections.”

“I guess it depends on what you mean by imperfection, then. It’s not an imperfection in your character, but it is a defect on how you would live your true life, if you’d live it differently if you didn’t have the _biological_ fault.”

“I supposed rather an imperfection in character,” Loki replied thoughtfully, “but then they are interlinked, are they not? Is one not living one’s true life not also a flaw?”

“See, I don’t really think such a thing exists as a true life, not really. I don’t believe in fate, or anything like that.”

“That is where we differ, then.”

Banner looked shocked. “I’m surprised you do.”

“Most Asgardians would,” Loki said. “The Norns weave the threads of destiny into the tapestry of life. But fate is not fixed; it is fluid and ever-changing, particularly on their will.”

“Then, still, there’s no such thing as a ‘true’ life, if it can change.”

Loki hadn’t thought of it like that before. He did see the logic in the argument, but it left him feeling odd - where did it place him, exactly, if there was no place he was _supposed_ to be? Before it had been at Thor’s side, but it became more and more evident that they as a unit were dysfunctional. Then it had been by the side of Sigyn, but that was ripped away from him. And then it was on a throne, but that too had been taken. Later, after the fall, it was by Thanos’ side, but that was just mind-bending falsities.

The only place left was Nyrlif, but being Jotun, he wasn’t truly _Asgardian_. Thor and Heimdall enjoyed the idea that Asgard was a people, not a place, but if he wasn’t one of the people, and he wasn’t from the place, then surely he just… wasn’t?

“Maybe,” Loki said slowly, “the true life is just the one in which you are happiest.”

Banner broke out into a smile. “Yeah, I like that,” Bruce said. “The one where you’re happiest.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Loki flipped a knife over in his blue Jotun hand as he lay on Brunnhilde’s sofa. It was getting easier - almost too easy - to exist in this state. Bruce had left shortly after their philosophical debate came to an end, after Loki had cajoled him to go home and sleep after one particularly enormous yawn.

Brunnhilde’s hands shook as they held a Midgardian book entitled _A Clash of Kings_ because she was going through “withdrawals”. Loki knew those - it was a tactic of Thanos to make him swallow poison that gave him pleasure beyond reality, then make him sit and shiver alone in a cell as it wore off, unless he begged for more. Plus, some of the various substances he had taken through the years didn’t have pleasant comedowns. She was worse for wear this morning, but had woken with that fierce look that meant she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Brunnhilde?”

“Yes, dear?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Dear?”

“You basically live here. I’m considering making you my house husband.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, flipping a page. “No. The mop and bucket is in the store cupboard.”

He sat up. “You have a mop and bucket?”

She glanced over at him distastefully. “Yes, Loki, because I’m not a fucking barbarian. What did you want?”

“I forgot.”

“Liar,” she said easily, sing-song.

He sighed and thought best how to phrase his question. “If you could go back and not meet Arnnbjörga, would you?”

She put her book down slowly. “Why?”

Loki shrugged. “Why not?”

She chewed on that for a few moments. “She was the best thing that ever happened to me. I can’t just turn back on that because she inadvertently caused me pain later.”

“But does the pain later not outweigh the pleasure of knowing her?”

“I don’t know,” Brunnhilde said slowly. “I don’t know. Maybe. If I never met her, I wouldn’t have become a Captain, and my work was the best I’ve ever had too.”

“But then compared to losing it...”

She sighed and sat up properly herself from where she had been slouching. “I wish I could drink right now,” she said quietly, her expression tight and pained.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said truthfully.

“Don’t apologise. It’s basically a constant state for me.”

“All the same,” Loki replied.

Brunnhilde glanced at him, side-eying. “Would you not meet Sigyn?”

He sighed. “Bruce told me yesterday that the person you marry is the person most likely to kill you. If I hadn’t met Sigyn, he might still be alive.”

“He might be dead, too.”

“All the same,” he whispered.

Brunnhilde stood up, placed a hand over his hair gently. “You shouldn't blame yourself. It was Odin’s fault.”

Loki nodded, looking down. She slipped away to the kitchen. “Could you get me a drink?”

“Go fuck yourself, pal,” she replied easily.

He grinned, still feeling caught up in his thoughts, and stood up. “I swear I do everything around this house.”

 

* * *

 

 

He left Brunnhilde’s at nightfall, hoping it was late enough he wouldn’t see Thor, who would generally retire early, a habit from early calls for drills; Loki, on the other hand, was far more the night-owl.

What he hadn’t counted on - quite understandably - was to find Sif reading one of his books on magic whilst lounging about on his bed. He had the wry thought that his adolescent self would've probably had a fit at the scene, but anger quelled any amusement he may have felt when he guessed why she was there.

“Has Thor sent you to see if I’m hiding anything else?” He asked, trying not to sound overly bitter in case he was wrong.

Sif glanced at him. “No. I was bored waiting for you. I half thought you were going to spend the night at Brunnhilde’s,” she said meaningfully.

Loki snorted. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You didn’t come to the party yesterday.”

“I did briefly, actually, but I had other urgent business to attend to. If I had known you would be so disappointed I would have made my presence known.” He grabbed her booted feet and took them off his bedsheets.

Sif rolled her eyes, looking unimpressed. “Norns, no. I just wanted to let you know something we heard during our journey back.” Loki lifted an eyebrow in question. “There’s a young man looking for you on Vanaheim. Vali was his name.”

And then it felt as though the air was sucked from the room as a million questions suddenly burst forward. Surely it wasn’t possible that Vali was alive - and looking for him? How could he have survived? How could he have turned back into the child he was? Or was he still the creature that killed--

He pushed that thought away as he tried to concentrate on what Sif was saying, but he couldn’t hear her through the roaring in his ears. He couldn’t make sense of the storm of his emotions; if he was happy, angry, sad, relieved, frightened. It was a terrifying amalgamation.

“--you alright?” She was standing up now and was reaching out tentatively. She pulled him to the bed to sit when he turned his wide eyes to her, his head light and dizzy. “Breathe, Loki. Would you like me to wake Thor?”

Loki shook his head, trying desperately to focus. He stared down at his hands, currently Aesir and pale. The hands of a person. “Vali is looking for me?”

“Yes.” Sif sat down beside him. “Well, he said Loki of Asgard and he seemed to think you were a woman; I know you certainly used to play with sex-changing tricks, so I assumed he meant you, given Loki is a man’s name. At the time I thought you dead, so I told him as much.”

“Was he well? Healthy? Was he alone?”

“Yes - he was wiry, but not emancipated. Had good colour.” Loki sighed in relief. He was alive and _well._ “Who is he, Loki?”

But where in all the Nine was Narfi? His head spun again and pressed his hands into his eyes. She sighed sadly, softly, and made a comforting noise.

He looked at her and for a moment he was reminded why he had fancied her so as a child; why he had envied Thor and her and their more natural bond. She had always seen him with a degree of melancholy; when the other Warriors had been vile, she was always more mature, even when he wasn’t back. It was only after Odin’s terrible lie-telling that she had begun to drift apart from him, spending far more of her time in Thor’s company alone rather than with both of them together.

He shook his head. It was all too much. “Thank you for telling me about this, Sif,” he said sincerely. It would’ve been all too easy to dismiss it or forget.

She seemed to sense the dismissal and stood. “Goodnight Loki. And… I hope it works out.”

“Goodnight,” he said to the closed door. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, if he even tried the images of his last day on Vanaheim would surely plague his dreams.

Vali was alive, but now would believe his mother - father? - to be dead. Now Thor had the Tesseract he has no way to even find him. But did he want to? What would he think of him once he knew the truth of who-- of _what_ he is? And what of Narfi? Was he dead? That did not bare thinking about.

His foot bounced against the ground restlessly. He suddenly jumped up and left his room before the anxious energy destroyed it again. Shortly, he found himself in front of Lake Semerwater where he dropped to the ground, feet tucked under him. The ice that had gripped lake during the battle and then the winter had finally begun to thaw and the waves were once again gently lapping against the shore.

He had always found a home next to large bodies of water because he loved them for their potential for havoc. As some thought the sea to be reliable, he knew how dangerous it was. He had seen the destruction a tsunami had caused during his travels when he was young and so cock-sure and arrogent. From a distance, he’d watched as an unstoppable wave had pushed through a village as though it were nothing and brought down the forest around them. Trees, sure and strong, hundreds of years old, had dropped at this single great wave.

Utter chaos. Life-ruining, terrible, unpredictable, _beautiful_ chaos, because destruction was not the end, but the beginning. Equilibriums were made to be destroyed. Of course when he found his, such devastating news would come.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there for, before he heard soft footsteps south-west of him. They were too soft to be Thor, too loud to be Brunnhilde or Sif. He turned to see Ylva standing at the tree line, staring at him, looking surprised and terrified in equal measure.

“It’s not safe to be out here on your own at this hour,” he called out to her.

“You are.”

“I am an adult, and I’m extremely powerful.”

“Well, I’m powerful,” she shot back. “Besides, you’re here, so I’m not alone.” She forwards and sat down beside him.

“And you knew I was here?” he asked, amused.

She hesitated, then shook her head. “No.”

“Does your mother know you are here?” She shook her head again, eyes downcast. Despite being under Steve’s requirement of give-or-take ‘13’ years old, she still came to some of the militia meets, insisting that because she had been in the battle with the Jotnar she should be allowed. She spent so much of her time trying to be seen as older than she was, but as she sat, hugging her knees to her chest and shivering against the cold, he realised anew how young she really was.

He cast a warming spell around them both and she relaxed a fraction, inching closer to him. “Why are you here so late, alone?” She shrugged. “Ylva, you know it is rude not to answer a question you are asked. Especially to your Prince.”

“I forget you’re the Prince sometimes,” she muttered. “Both you and King Thor. You’re both too nice. Ma taught me if I were ever to see the Allfather I should bow and act like a proper lady, but at the start I was playing with some friends and saw Thor so I tried to act like a proper lady but he just laughed and asked me about the game we were playing. He even wanted to _join in_ ,” she said scornfully. “I usually remember to bow, but I’m supposed to bow to you, and you’re more like a teacher or a friend. I don’t bow to my friends. That would be weird.”

Loki just stared, not quite sure how to respond to that. “Well, if I your friend, then perhaps you should tell me why you are out here?”

“Monster hunting.”

“... Ylva.

She didn’t answer immediately, but he could see she was thinking about it. After giving her a few moments to turn it over in her head, she finally whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear, “I had a nightmare.”

_Oh._

“I hear that it is good to talk about your nightmares,” he offered, knowing full well he sounded as unsure of himself as he actually was.

“Do you?”

He went to deny having nightmares, but then stopped himself. She shouldn’t think of her elders as infallible; it was how he got into that mess with Odin. “I used to speak to my mother, or sometimes Thor. As I got older, I stopped talking of them,” he admitted. “But I was wrong to.”

“Do you still have nightmares?” She asked, her eyes wide.

“Sometimes.”

“What are they about?”

Loki sighed and bit the inside of his cheek. “I could not tell you ‘til you were older, Ylva. They are not light subjects.”

“I’ve seen battle,” she argued. “I can handle it.”

“Battle is naught compared to the rest of the universe and other misfortunes that can fall in one’s life. I do not wish to scare you,” he assured her, “but there are fears that only come about when you are an adult. Then you will understand.”

She sighed heavily, like she was far older than her actual years. “Pa always used to say I didn’t understand anything.”

Oh, good, they were onto _daddy issues_. Where on Earth was Stark when you needed him?

“He was wrong to say that,” Loki offered, feeling as though he was toeing onto increasingly thinning ice. “I hope you don’t take offence to this, but I have heard that your father was not a nice man.”

“I never thought he was too bad, really, until I realised that you were better.”

He jerked his head, taken aback. “Ylva, I am not your father,” he said firmly.

“I know,” she said sadly. “I do. I just sometimes think about…” She paused, struggling to articulate her feelings. “About how it could’ve been.”

“The grass is always greener,” he reminded her. “I’m sure you would’ve had your qualms with me had I been your father.”

She did laugh at that. “Probably. But I don’t think you would’ve been mean.”

“No,” Loki said quietly. “I don’t think I would’ve been, either.”

“But then I suppose you never know, do you?” Ylva postulated. “Ma never would’ve married pa if she’d known that he was going to be so mean later. Some people are only _really_ nasty when you really get to know them.”

“I suppose no one would like you if you were mean up front,” Loki agreed.

She shrugged. “It’s not just meanness, though. Some people are only funny or kind when you get to know them. Like you.”

“Ylva…”

“I know, I know,” she muttered.

“I don’t want to upset you, but it’s not…” How could you explain the idea of boundaries to a child? “It’s not good to wallow too much on thoughts such as these. I can be your teacher - in fact, it’s my honour - but I cannot be your father.”

“I don’t want _you_ to be my father. I just want someone _like you_ to be… there,” she said frustratedly, clearly struggling to say what she meant. He understood, though. He had felt the same way about Odin; he wasn’t sure who he wanted, but sometimes, Odin’s sparse love to him next to the black hole that was Thor just wasn’t enough. But any father he wanted, Odin already was - he was a scholar, a _seiðrmann_ , an intellect. Therefore, his younger self concluded, the issue was with _him_ , not his father, whose only fault was not loving him enough. Hardily a _crime_.

“Have you spoken to your mother about this?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want her to feel bad.”

“Yes, I’m unsure how you could bring it up. It is a very difficult subject. However,” he said, “that is not a reason to talk about the nightmares.”

Ylva went through a storm of emotions before settling on frustration. “I thought you’d forget.”

“There is no tricking the Trickster God.”

“How did you get that title, anyways?” Loki just sent her a sharp glance. _Stop stalling._ “Fine. I don’t remember it all now.”

“Then I will hear whatever parts you know.”

After a beat, very hesitantly, very softly, she began. “I dream of Bylister returning. He’s angry at me for helping you, and he sometimes he attacks me with those ice spike things. He chases me. Sometimes he kills you instead, and I can’t look away. At one point during the fight - the real fight - Hawkeye jumped in front of me so I didn’t get burned, but in my dream he doesn’t and I get hurt really badly.”

Once she started, she seemed unstoppable. How strange, to compare this Ylva to the one not even a year a go. She carried on, relentless, though she was shaking violently, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “In one dream, I was dragged through the portal with Bylister. There were so many of the Ice Giants, and they were crowding me and s-- shouting. Sometimes they’re all _here,_ in Nyrlif, and we’re _losing_ the fight and the portal won’t c-- close--” she cut herself off with a sob and lunged at him, pushing her head into his chest. His arm automatically curled around her as he tried to process everything she’d just said.

“Have you been having these since the battle?”

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Does your mother know - at all?”

“No.”

A few months and she hadn’t told anybody. His arm tightened around her. “Why have you not told her, Ylva?” he asked softly, hoping she didn’t think he was angry at her.

“Didn’t want her to worry.”

“She won’t worry. Not like she would over the father business.” She mumbled something but had her face pushed into his chest so he couldn’t hear. “Please repeat that so I can hear you.”

She moved back so he could hear. “If people knew I was scared then they wouldn’t let me come to the meets.”

He wanted to kick himself for not seeing this. The past few months she had been insisting on coming to the meets, having more lessons with him and the other _seiðr_ users. She’d been one of the most dedicated apprentices he’d ever been witness to, asides perhaps himself. He hadn’t even thought to wonder why.

He gently pushed her away in order to make eye contact. “Ylva, I’m going to let you in on a secret. You can keep a secret, correct?” She nodded. “We’re all scared sometimes. During that fight I was terrified, and I would bet anything that the Avengers were too.”

“Really?”

“Really. Only fools aren’t afraid of anything. And fear is good, it pushes you harder, allows you to run faster, fight harder. Your _seiðr_ will rarely be as powerful as it is during those moments.” He paused, allowing the words to sink in before carrying on. “I will not lie to you; Bylister is still out there. Should he ever dare to return, he will regret it ‘til the end of his suddenly very short life.” He sighed. “You shouldn’t have been at the battle, regardless. It was irresponsible of whoever let you.”

“I ran past ma before she could stop me. Hawkeye tried to tell me to go back, but I ignored him and promised to stay out of harm's way. I did break that promise,” she admitted sheepishly, “but he wasn’t mad, because he said I did good.”

“And you said he stopped you from being burned?”

“Yeah.” Loki made a mental note to thank Barton. He pulled her close to him again as she asked, “so why are you out here?”

He smiled grimly and looked back out towards the lake. “I was given some news I did not expect and needed to order my thoughts.”

“Oh. Can I help at all?”

“No, but thank you,” he said tiredly. “You should go back to bed.”

“I don’t want to,” she said petulantly.

He looked back down at her, deciding he could use the company. “Then sleep here. I will keep you safe tonight.”

She nodded, looking openly thankful, and he instructed her to conjure some blankets, mostly to use as a mat to protect her from the rocky beach. She did so - with a little help from him - then lay down with her head in his lap.

He lay his hand gently over her hair, and turned to look over the lake. A few lights could be seen on the other side, and he wondered what, or who, they were. Though his discussion with Ylva had been a good distraction, with her asleep, his tumultuous thoughts turned back to the useless feedback they had been before she came. Despite this, he was all the calmer for having her there, a comforting weight that kept him grounded to the present, Nyrlif, and the reality in front of him.

 

* * *

 

 

The night after that, Loki stood in front of Thor’s door, debating uselessly with himself over if he should knock or not.

Luckily - or not - the decision was made for him. The door flew open and Thor only noticed Loki in time to stop himself from walking into him. “Loki? What are you doing?”

“I came-- could we talk?”

Thor gave him a disdainful look. “I have no desire to talk with you right now.”

“Well, I want to talk with you,” Loki snapped and then immediately attempted to calm himself before he hurt his case further. “Please.”

The single word seemed to be enough. After a frustrated sigh, Thor stepped back into his room,  leaving the door open. “I am due to meet the Captain soon, so we do not have long.” Thor moved a pile of armor off his bed and sat down on the space created as Loki followed him in. “Speak.”

“Vali is alive,” Loki said in a rush, having to say the words quickly before he changed his mind.

Thor furrowed his brow. “Vali? Your son?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“Sif. Apparently Vali is looking for me. He knew I was of Asgard so I suppose when he heard of the Asgardian encampment, he asked them of me. But he’s _alive,_ as I suspected, Thor,” he said, grinning widely and genuinely.

Thor smiled. “That is… I’m happy for you, brother, truly. But I must ask, did you not have two sons?”

“Narfi. Yes,” Loki said, flashing a tight closed smile. “I do not know what has become of him.”

“What will you do?”

Loki could hear the question Thor wasn’t asking as clear as the one he did. _Are you going to steal the Tesseract from me to find Vali?_

Was he? The sharp-eyed, hungry, ambitious wretch in him - the one who trusted nobody, who wandered, who let go of the staff on the rainbow bridge and the one who sought the crown of Midgard - would’ve, for certain. As Thor had said on Sakkar, that age old tale was getting boring. He couldn’t go backwards to that. Forwards was the way, and forwards for him was planting his feet and steadfastly refusing to move.

Besides, he couldn’t just _leave_. He had Ylva and Brunnhilde to look out for; he had the new soldiers to supervise, and the new buildings to oversee. And, of course, things had been looking up with his brother, asides from this bump. If Thor wouldn’t give Loki the Tesseract, how could he demand it from him? And how would Loki ever return to Nyrlif if he stole it?

And he might never find Vali. Vanaheim was a big realm; Vali was not an uncommon name. And Vali might be bitterly disappointed that his loving mother was a fucked-up man who had let himself spiral so badly out of control that it was easier for him to be believed dead than alive. And not trying to find him right now was not never trying at all.

Loki drew in a shaky breath, feeling light and unburdened, and spoke. “I’ll stay, Thor.”

Thor broke out into a radiant grin. “Truely?”

Loki placed his hand on Thor’s neck, as how Thor did to him before all the bad things. “Truely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No glossary this chapter, since pretty much everything is self explanatory, except: "Bellend" is a British insult meaning dickhead. We weren't sure if Americans would know it!
> 
> We're also going to call this our trilogy of 5 a la Douglas Adams, since this was (as we keep lamenting to ourselves) originally supposed to be a 3 chapter fic no longer than 20,000 words. Oh, we were so naive back then. The final chapter will be in a week - actually in a week this time, too - and will be a comparatively short epilogue.
> 
> Thank you everyone who commented and kudosed and bookmarked - we appreciate every one!


	5. Equinox (Epilogue)

Loki approached Brunnhilde with a platter of intricate pastries. The spring equinox party was almost in full swing, and she was leaning against the wall to the side, looking forlorn.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be here?” Loki asked, offering her the platter.

“I’m not gonna go on another binge,” she said, delicately lifting a pastry to her mouth. Through a mouthful, she continued. “I’m one month sober.”

Loki looked at her in disdain. “Did your mother never tell you to not talk with food in your mouth?”

“Yeah. She also told me not to sleep with girls, but here we are.”

Loki snorted, then became careful. “Still, if you’re ever… struggling…” he said, feeling equal parts hesitant and uncomfortable.

She just glanced up at him with a contemptuous look. “I’m not delicate.”

“I know you’re not,” he said, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes.

“Good.”

“Good.”

He side glanced her. “Still…”

She sighed. “I know,” she said. “Thank you.”

Loki nodded slightly, feeling pleased, then ate a pastry himself, mostly for lack of words.

Brunnhilde stole one too, and - probably just to irritate him - ate it with her mouth obnoxiously open. “I’m surprised you haven’t just up and left.”

“What, because of Vali?” She nodded. He sighed and shrugged, putting the platter down on a nearby vacated table, which he then sat on, his feet pressed against the ground. “I would not leave Thor.”

“Since when have you done what he asks of you?”

“He didn’t ask it of me, Brunnhilde. You know that.”

Brunnhilde looked irritated. “You would’ve left if not for him.”

“I would’ve left if not for multiple things. There is no use in speculation.”

“But there _is_. This isn’t a one and done thing. You could leave now - just go steal the Tesseract and be done with it.”

“How could I ever return to Nyrlif if I did that?”

“This place is boring anyways.”

“It’s the last of our kind,” he shot back angrily. “Brunnhilde, we’ve already gone over this. I’m not leaving.”

“Coward,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“Coward,” she said, louder this time, looking him straight in the eye.

He was taken aback and angry that she would accuse him of such a thing. “How could you think I’m a coward?”

“You won’t leave because you’re _scared_. Scared that Vali will resent you, or that he’ll be dead by the time you get there, or that you won’t find Narfi. You’re scared that if you leave, you won’t be allowed back, or Thor will take your children.”

He stood up, completely furious and overcome with a horrible, exposing embarrassment, because it was _true._ “Brunnhilde,” he said, lowly and dangerously, taking slow steps towards her.

“Stop with the act, Loki,” she spat, not at all intimidated by his proximity. “Being scared should keep you moving, not keep you still, like _prey_.”

Loki shoved Brunnhilde into the wall, too enraged to even think about what he was doing. His _seiðr_ jumped up to his skin and threatened to burst out, like it did when he destroyed his room - something he had not done in months. A wave of horror washed over him, and he took several steps backwards, until he bumped into the table he had been sitting on moments ago. Brunnhilde glared at him definitely, her left hand curled around a small silver blade that glinted in the soft light of the hall.

“So _what_ , then? What do you suggest I do? Steal the Tesseract and become lost to my brother and people?”

“No,” she said. “Just stop lying to yourself about why you’re not already gone.”

He leaned against the table, his head light. He tried to speak, but the words became caught in his throat like black sludge. Her hard look softened and she took several steps forwards.

“Loki?”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he stared down at his hands.

“I’ll go with you,” she said. “When you leave to find Vali, I’ll go with you, if you want.”

His head snapped up. “You will?”

“Yes.”

He broke out into a smile, half delighted, half ashamed that he needed some sort of escort. Still, if it turned out that Vali and Narfi both were dead, there’s no one else he’d want there, even if the thought brought on another wave of horror. What would Brunnhilde see if she went with him?

“I’d like that,” he said after a moment of thinking. “Are you sure you want to come?”

“Have you not been listening to me? Nyrlif is hardly the epicentre of exciting events. This would be the best thing to happen to me all year.”

He held out his hand to her, and she wrapped hers around his wrist. They shook on it.

“I don’t know if I’ll go yet,” Loki warned her.

“I know,” she said, grinning. “But I’ll be there when you do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki looked over his book as Thor barged into his room, apropos of nothing. “How many years will it take for you to learn to knock?” Loki drawled.

Thor grinned as though he hadn’t said anything and exclaimed, “join me for a drink!”

“Why?”

“Because I have not had a drink with my brother in too long.” Thor shifted on his feet, his eye darting around the room.

Loki put the bookmark in place and stood up, eyeing him warily. “Are you marrying Sif?”

“No!”

“Marrying someone, then.”

“No, Loki--”

“Are you _sure_?”

Thor stopped shifting and took on a half disgusted, half amused expression. “That is not why I am here. Come.” Thor turned on his heel and - like the oaf he was - assumed that Loki would follow him. Loki sighed, put his book down, and was lead into Munningard, where there were already various bottles of different drinks set up on the table. Loki grabbed the red wine, taking an experimental sip. Despite Brunnhilde no longer drinking, he was still wary that he would take a bottle of something fairly straight forward and get some weird cocktail instead.

“So, what do you wish to speak of?” Loki prompted Thor once they were both sat.

“How is Valkyrie doing, with going sober?”

“She had good and bad days,” Loki said. “But I don’t think that is why you asked me here.”

Thor fell silent. For once, Loki realised, Thor was considering his words before speaking. He finished his drink and poured another before speaking.

“I have been thinking of your son. You said you wanted to stay here and finish what you started. What about once the settlement is complete? It almost is, in a functional sense. There will always be improvements, but the bulk of it is essentially done.”

“I-- I have not given the afterwards much thought.” Except _that_ was a lie. He wanted to find Vali and Narfi, especially after his conversation with Brunnhilde, but he would need to find a way to Vanaheim. There were often hidden portals between the realms and wayward branches of Yggdrasil, but it was the no small matter of finding them and then devising a valid route.

“You have a plan for everything you do, Loki. You want to find Vali. How could you not?”

Loki sighed, taking a mouthful of his wine whilst he considered how to respond. “I am terrified of not finding him or of anything else going wrong, but yes. I would want to look for him.”

“You could take the Tesseract from me and leave before I knew it was gone.”

Loki held Thor’s steady gaze. “I could.”

“Are you going to?”

“If I was, don’t you think I would have by now?”

“Perhaps you do want to finish what you started. Finish the extensions to the settlement and then…”

“Why would I care? If I were to steal the Tesseract from you, _brother_ , then I would never be allowed to return, and then where would I go? Jotunheim?” He laughed. “Why would I care to finish the extensions if I was not going to see them used?”

Thor poured out more wine into his glass, and sighed heavily. “I want to trust you Loki. I really do.”

“You can,” Loki promised. “This time… you can trust me. I will not take the Tesseract from you.”

“Were you ever going to tell me about it?”

“I had planned to. But when? I don’t know.”

Thor hummed and downed his drink, then settled back in his chair thoughtfully, staring at Loki in a studious way.

Loki leaned backwards too. “What is the purpose of this discussion, Thor?”

“I want to trust you,” Thor said. “So, I’m going to.” He reached over to his jacket, which was slung over the back of a chair, and dug around one pocket until he pulled out a bundle of cloth that radiated power.

Loki _itched_ to take it, but he waited with bated breath. Thor put it on the table between them like it was his chess move. “Thor?” he hedged.

“One month,” Thor said definitively. “If you have not found him by then, we can revisit this discussion. But if you do not return within one month… my question of trust will have been answered.”

Loki stared at Thor like he’d lost his mind. “Are you certain, brother?”

“No.”

“If I don’t return? You have lost the Tesseract.”

“I have no need for it. It’s dangerous and indefensible, especially if Thanos were to come looking for it. I would rather it was in your hands - pockets - offworld, rather than just waiting for it to be stolen by any passing enemy. If you ever return we may find a use for it, but for now...”

“ _When_.”

Thor smiled thinly at him. “When you return.”

Loki gingerly took the Tesseract, pulling away the cloth to look at it. It’s pale blue glow pooled and shined over the skin of his hands. His brain utterly short circuited. “Thor. Thank you. I can’t… express… Just, thank you.”

“One month,” Thor replied, and Loki knew he was really saying _you’re welcome._

Loki let out a shaky breath. “I will be staying for another few days. I promised Ylva I would let her know should I leave again, and Brunnhilde will need time to get her effects in order.”

“Brunnhilde? What does she have to do with this?”

“She wishes to come with me. She is bored here.”

“Ah. At least you will have somebody to keep you in line.” Thor grinned.

“Or enable the chaos.”

“If she does, Vanaheim hasn’t a chance,” Thor groaned, staring into his drink as though he hoped it held all the answers. “Do you have a plan for when you arrive?”

“Sif told me she saw him just outside the Western Valley’s capital city, during a regular market, so I will start there. There is also the forest where we lived and places we often visited.”

“I regret I have not asked you much of your life there or of your children.”

“Because you hate the very idea of how they came to be.”

“No. I did not understand. I still do not understand, but I have been trying. Apparently on Midgard it is not uncommon for one to choose a gender other than the one they were born with. They often cannot change back as you have, but…” Thor trailed off, and shrugged helplessly.

“You have been giving this a lot of thought.”

“I confess I confided in the Avengers and took note of their opinions,” he admitted, picking at the skin of his thumb. Loki’s own habit of doing so was in all likelihood copied from Thor, who copied it from Frigga. “It seemed I was alone in my confusion.”

“Well I tell you when I get back. Anything you want to know.”

 

* * *

 

 

The dawn broke with mist in the air and dew on the ground. Loki stood by Lake Semerwater, a heavy backpack resting on the ground at his feet. Brunnhilde was next to him, her Sakkar armour looking shined and polished, her own bag slung over her shoulder. The sky was a gentle gradient from orange, through golden yellow, and then to blue.

“Loki?” There was a persistent tug at the linen under his bracer.

Loki looked down to Ylva, who was doing her best not to cry. “Yes?”

“You will come back, won’t you?”

He knelt so that he was on eye level with her. “Within a month, I promise.”

She nodded, then flung her arms around him. “Y-- you promise?”

He smiled though she couldn’t see it and nodded. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I know,” she said thickly, “but I worry anyways.”

Loki separated off from her. He’d only vaguely explained the situation - that he was looking for his long lost children - and before Ylva had felt the weight of him leaving, she’d thought it all to be terribly romantic. “Remember to practice and meditate.”

“I know,” she said.

“I know you do.” He stood up and Ylva retreated to Eir’s skirts to hide. Thor stepped forward and gave him a crushing hug that knocked the air out of him.

“Good journey and farewell,” Thor said, pulling back with both his hands still resting on Loki’s forearms. “I hope the Norns smile down upon you.”

Loki smiled. “Thank you, brother. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Thor embraced Brunnhilde as well, whispering something to her that made her laugh. And then that was it. They’d had a farewell party the night before, so most of the goodbyes (at varying degrees of sincerities) had been said the night before, though they’d carefully avoided saying _how_ Loki was leaving, lest it cause unrest.

Loki slung his backpack over his shoulders and nodded to Brunnhilde, who placed her hand on the Tesseract. He closed his eyes and felt it activate, suddenly bursting full of energy that hummed and groaned to be let out.

 _To Vanaheim_ , he thought, as loudly as he could, hope and fear rearing up inside of him like beasts he had tamed before. The energy came to a plateau, and with a crackle of static electricity, they were, the two of them, snapped off of Midgard.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks!
> 
> Massive, massive thank you to everyone who kudosed, commented, subscribed and bookmarked. Speaking of - we've made this universe into a series, so subscribe to be notified when we post the next installment, which will be called "And Away They Did Run". It'll follow Steve and Bucky and what they've been up to! We might also be adding a couple oneshots so look out for those too.
> 
> Here's some recommended listening for this fic we think you should check out!
> 
> Sure As Hell Not Jesus - Cosmo Jarvis  
> Maria - AliceBand  
> New Slang - The Shins  
> Simple Song - The Shins  
> Monster - Imagine Dragons  
> Unbelievers - Vampire Weekend
> 
> Once again thank you everyone who read, we really hope you've enjoyed it and we'll see you next time!


End file.
